Dragon of the North
by Tellie571
Summary: Harry makes a different choice in kings cross after he was struck down by Voldemort. Reborn at the end of a rebellion. Watch as Harry grows up in a darker world of swords and magic. M rated for good reason, story contains descriptive violence, character death and sex.
1. Prologue

**Dragon of the North. Prologue.**

 _Harry looked curiously at Dumbledore as he thought about what to do. "So if I was to...board the train. Where would it take me"?_

 _Dumbledore smiled slightly as he stroked his beard. "On I would think, again this is as I said, your party, but I think boarding a train would lead you to the next great adventure"._

 _"Voldemort has the elder wand", Harry said. Dumbledore nodded, "Yes he has"._

 _Harry hesitated for a few moments more before extending his hand to Dumbledore. "I think...for once in my life I will do the selfish thing and move on". Dumbledore let out a small sigh as he grasped his hand. "You've earnt it my boy, good luck"._

 _Harry entered the closest wagon and set down in a compartment as the train made a sudden lurch and started to move forwards. Swifter and swifter the train moved as everything turned into a kaleidoscope of colour and noise and Harry started to worry as he suddenly felt as though he wa surrounded by warmth and a squeesing sensation somewhat familiar to apparition pushed down at him. He could hear faint screams and voices before he was suddenly pushed out screaming into a world of light and cold. absently he heard a voice say. "You have a son Lady Lyanna"._

 _Before he could do more than blink his mouth was introduced to something soft and instinctively he suckled almost cooing as his hunger abated. Opening his eyes he got a faint glimpse of a young beutiful woman with grey eyes and long dark hair, looking tired but lovingly down at him. His last thought before the Morpheus took him into his grasp was, 'oh dear, now what's happened'._

While Harry was sleeping in his crib, in another realm the survivors of Hogwarts were in mourning as they counted the dead. With Harry's death as well as the deaths of countless others, none had been in a forgiving mood and Voldemort's forces had been caught on the back foot as the 'forces of light' started shooting to kill. After a short but vicious battle it was over, all but five of Voldemort's supporters had survived the battle as none of either Voldemort nor his death eaters curses seemed to do anything.

Nagini had been destroyed by Neville Longbottom, Bellatrix by Molly Weasley while Voldemort himself had been killed by Hagrid who had used the deistraction of Voldemort fighting Horace Slughorn, Minerva McGonagall and Kingsley Shacklebolt to grab the Dark Lord from behind. Streaming tears of rage and sadness he grabbed Voldemort by the head and crushed his head like an overripe watermelon.

Behing named minister Kingsley used Harry's sacrifice to introduce sweeping reforms in britain. The Remaining Death Eaters were pushed through the Veil. Every Ministry employee was questioned under veritaserum, those who had actively and willingly supported Voldemort faced heavy prison terms and fines. The wizengamot was likewise gutted due to the corruption it had long propagated and remodeled, now becoming electoral seats instead of hereditary. It too years but the pureblood cult in Great Britain was finally destroyed, all due to the sacrifice of one young man.

 **Year 283 AC. Tower of Joy.**

Lord Eddard Stark and his six companions looked at the three assembled Former Kingsguard of King Aerys. Ser Arthur Dayne leant slightly against the wall of the tower with his helmet in his hand. Ser Osswell Whent was kneeling as he absently ran a whetstone along his sword, while the White Bull Ser Gerold stood imposingly in the middle.

"I looked for you on the Trident," Ned said to them.

"We were not there," Ser Gerold answered.

"Woe to the Usurper if we had been," said Ser Oswell.

"When King's Landing fell, Ser Jaime slew your king with a golden sword, and I wondered where you were."

"Far away," Ser Gerold said, "or Aerys would yet sit the Iron Throne, and our false brother would burn in seven hells."

"I came down on Storm's End to lift the siege," Ned told them, and the Lords Tyrell and Redwyne dipped their banners, and all their knights bent the knee to pledge us fealty. I was certain you would be among them."

"Our knees do not bend easily," said Ser Arthur Dayne.

"Ser Willem Darry is fled to Dragonstone, with your queen and Prince Viserys. I thought you might have sailed with him."

"Ser Willem is a good man and true," said Ser Oswell.

"But not of the Kingsguard," Ser Gerold pointed out. "The Kingsguard does not flee."

"Then or now," said Ser Arthur. He donned his helm.

"We swore a vow," explained old Ser Gerold.

Ned's wraiths moved up beside him, with shadow swords in hand. They were seven against three.

"And now it begins," said Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. He unsheathed Dawn and held it with both hands. The blade was pale as milkglass, alive with light.

"No," Ned said with sadness in his voice. "Now it ends."

Rushing forward Ned swung Ice down from a high blow against Ser Arthur who deftly diverted the massive blade and struck back with a move so quick it nearly left Ned stunned as he barely avoided the blow. A gurgle sounded to Ned's right signifying the end of William Dustin as Ser Gerold's blade pierced his throat. Angrily Ned launched another strike upon Ser Arthur who leaned back to avoid the attack before retaliating.

Back and forth Ned and Ser Arthur fought. heedless of the men dying around them. To Ned it felt like an eternity passed. Both him and Ser Arthur were bleeding from a score of lesser wounds, their armour red with blood and buckled and dented from where it had absorbed mighty blows. Overextending Ned watched in dismay as Ice was knocked out of his grasp and he closed his eyes as he thought about his wife whom he would never see again. Of his son whom would never know him, but curiously the killing blow never came and as he opened his eyes he saw why.

Ser Arthur Dayne, Sword of the Morning and the greates knight in the Seven Kingdoms looked stunned and confused, even as his lifeblood poured out from the wound in his throat where young Howland Reed had pierced it whith his blade. Looking desperately at Ned he fell forward to the ground and lay still.

Looking over at Howland who looked as stunned as Ned felt he was about to thank the young Crannogman before a woman's scream pierced the air. "LYANNA"! Ned screamed as he and howland ran into the tower. Up the stairs until they came to the top where a woman pointed at a closed door. Wrenching open the door he ran over to his sister whom was lying in a bed, he hair hung limply off her head and her skin glistened with sweat.

"Lyanna", he almost whispered as he took in his sister's state. The sheets were filled with blood and the room smelled of blood and roses.

"Ned," she whispered weakly. "Ned I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry Ned. I never meant for this to happen". she was crying softly as as she clung weakly to him.

Kissing her warm forehead Ned tried to smile at his sister. "Do no worry sister, it will be alright, you'll be fine".

Lyanna sniffled as a broken chuckle came from her. "I'm dying Ned, the wetnurse said it is the birthing fever".

At those words Ned's eyes widened as he spotted the crib in the corner for the first time. Standing up he walked slowly over to the crib and almost fell back in shock. In the crib lay a small babe, harldy more than a month at most. Tufts of silver white hair crowned his head and then the babe opened his eyes, revealing a pair of frightfuly aware violet eyes speckeckled with emerald green. As if in a trance he carefully picked up the young babe and chuckled slightly as the boy tryed grabbing his beard.

"Bring him to me Ned, let me hold him one last time", Lyanna said from her position of the bed. Ned walked back to the bed and carefully placed the boy in his sister's arms. Lyanna smiled sadly at her young son and kissed his forehead softly while whispering her farewells to her child. Looking back up at her brother she steeled her gaze. "Promise me Ned, promise me you will protect my Daeron, protect him from Robert".

Ned narrowed his eyes slightly. "Daeron"? he questioned.

Lyanna smiled sadly while looking over to a corner where Ned could spot a black cloak with a red three headed dragon. "His father was a Prince, and so is he. Promise me Ned".

Choking back a sob he nodded as he took the babe from his sister's dying arms. "I promise". Lyanna smiled in relief before closing her eyes and let out a last sigh. As if he knew his mother was gone the babe started crying and Ned looked helplessly over at Howland whom was wiping away tears of his own. Suddenly the wetnurse whom neither man had paid any attention to rushed over and with a quick, "Pardon m'Lord", took the child and started rocking him back and forth while cooing softly at him, eventually the babe stopped crying and snuggled sleepily against the young woman's bosom. "What is your name woman"? Ned asked her.

"Wylla m'Lord", she answered shakily.

Ned sighed wearily as he ran a tired hand over his face. "You will have to come with us, and not a word of this to anyone". The woman nodded quickly as she started placed Daeron back in his crib to start packing what few posessions belenging to him and his mother. His mother's maiden cloak, a few letters written to Lyanna by her beloved Rhaegar, a gold necklace of a dragon with rubies as its eyes.

While Wylla was packing Ned strode over to Howland and whispered to him. "You must take them to Greywater Watch in the neck, once there", Ned swallowed the bile of disgust that threathened to spill up in him. "Once there you must find another wetnurse...and kill this one". Howland widened his eyes slightly, before nodding with resignation. "It will be done My Lord".

Together the two northemen, wetnurse and infant Prince ' _King'_ Ned reminded himself walked back out of the tower, only for the two northmen to immediately draw their swords. Ser Osswell Whent was staring at them from where he was knelt over a small cairn of stones, seven others like them dotted the area around him and he had shed his white armour, and Ned realised why Osswell had been thought of as dead. Blood was caked on the side of his head, stemmed by a hastily prepared bandage and the area around the wound was bruised. Rising up he pointed his sword at them with a shaky hand. "What now Lord Stark? will you bring his Grace to the usurper"?

Ned shook his head as he sheathed Ice and motioned for Howland to do the same. "I know not what you speak of Ser Knight. The boy is my bastard son and I am bringing him with me to the North where he can grow up with his kin".

Osswell let out a sigh in relief as he understood what Ned was saying. "Then take me with you My Lord, I am but a simple Knight without land and title, perhaps I can serve in your castle in return for food and lodgings".

Ned nodded to Osswell as the Kingsguard Knight sheathed his sword. "You will have to take on a new name, perhaps grow a beard and colour your hair too, it wouldn't do for Robert to find out about you". Looking at the cairns that held five of his friends as well as two Kingsguard and the armour of the last one he turned nack to Osswell. You will accompany Howland, the babe and the wetnurse up north along with the body of my sister". he picked up Dawn, the sword of Ser Arthur, "I must go to Starfall and deliver this before venturing to Riverrun to collect my wife and heir, I will meet you in the neck, until then, you will follow Howland's commands as if they were my own understood"?

Osswell nodded slightly as he walked over to where the horses were. "I will defend them with my life Lord Stark".

After securing Lyanna's body to a horse Ned watched sadly as Hwoland, Osswell and Wylla along with his nephew left the tower for the long journey north, before setting of towards Starfall where he would deliver Dawn back to its family...

 **AN:**

 **So my muse has been pretty dead lately as this story here has been pretty much been locked in my head. I will do my very best however to try and write more regularly. Updates for my other stories are in the works, but no idea when I will be done. Also if there are anyone here with knowledge of Got/ASoIaF who are willing to beta for me please send me a PM.**

 **Pairing will most likely be Harry/Daeron and female Targ cause incest is wincest (goddamn you DLP). Magic will be featured in the story, but not as heavily as in HP becuase the magic from HP would be WAY too OP. As for HP, assume canon up to the point of Harry taking an AK to the chest, so Harry is a strong wizard who is somewhat lazy when it comes to studying, but intelligent, and very quick on his feet. Also assume his personality will be somewhat different, after all, new society, no dark lord out to kill him and most importantly, not sharing headspace with said dark lord which in my opinion has had to have at least some psychological effect on Harry in his youth.**

 **Please tell me what you think in a review and again, Beta readir is both welcomed and desired.**

 **Cheers**

 **Tellie571**


	2. Ned I

**The Neck near Greywater Watch. 283 AC**

 **Ned:**

Lord Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North glared at the plump and heavily perfumed eunuch who was known as Lord Varys the 'Master of Whispers' on King Robert Baratheon's small council. Himself, Varys, Howland Reed, Oswell Whent and his brother Benjen were having this meeting in the gloom of the swamps near Greywater Watch in the Neck in the middle of the night to discuss what to do with his nephew who was currently sleeping safely in Howland's keep. Ned had almost stricken Varys' head from his shoulders when Varys came to him in the middle of the night when he was sleeping in a tavern in Tumbleton, only Varys' swift tongue had saved him he recalled.

 **Flashback:**

 _Ned had just finished removing his armour when a voice spoke from the shadows, a voice he last heard in Kings Landing offering condolences for his father and brother. "Your journey south brought more than you expected and less than you hoped for My Lord", Varys spoke softly as he stepped out into the light, clad in a simple brown hooded robe._

 _Ned reacted quickly and drew Ice and pointed it at Varys. "Why are you here spider? Speak quickly"._

 _Varys smiled disarmingly as he took a seat in the sole chair in the room, throwing back his hood as he did so. "Worry not My Lord Stark, I am here to help". Ned raised an eyebrow in disbelief, not trusting the eastern eunuch at all. "Forgive me for not taking you at your word"._

 _Varys tittered slightly before giving another smile before clapping twice in quick succession. The door opened and a man entered followed by a young girl who was clutching his hand frightfully. After the man turned back around, having closed the door Ned gasped slightly as he recognised the young man. He was well built with broad shoulders, brown eyes and short dirty blonde hair. He wore unassuming leathers but Ned could hear the slight ranging of chainmail underneath. "Richard Lonmouth", he said. "I thought you to be dead or fleeing after Rhaeghar lost on the Trident"._

 _Lonmouth shook his head slightly. "My Prince sent me away some time before the battle to safeguard his family in Kings Landing, that is where the Spider found me"._

 _Turning his gaze back to Varys, Ned frowned. "This is not helping your case Lord Varys", he said, still keeping Ice ready for a strike._

 _Varys smiled shrewdly. "Considering who is being escorted in secret to the Neck you should realize that Lonmouth and myself are here to help, if you take a second look you'll know why"._

 _Ned turned his gaze back to Lonmouth and looked at the girl who was holding his hand and dropped Ice in shock as he staggered backwards. Tan skin, dark silky hair and wide frightened violet eyes gazed at him…Rhaegar's eyes. "Impossible", he whispered. "I watched Tywin's beasts lay her broken body before Robert on the Iron Throne"._

 _Lonmouth spat on the floor at the mention of Robert while the girl…Princess whimpered slightly. "Maegor was a genius when he designed the Red Keep Lord Stark. Secret passageways litter the castle, and it proved easy enough to swap the princess with a young girl similar enough. Alas we were unable to save Prince Aegon as Aerys refused to let him leave his sight", Varys explained patiently._

 _Lonmouth nudged Rhaenys towards Ned. "I swore to Rhaegar, her father to protect his family, and she still has a little brother, your nephew My Lord…she is your family now, and yours to protect as much as mine"._

 _Ned sat down wearily on the bed as Varys resumed speaking. "You thought the murder of Elia and the children and the lack of punishments handed out as disgusting as I did, and you know the fate that awaits your nephew, and possibly your entire family should he be discovered". Ned nodded while narrowing his eyes slightly. "What are you getting at Lord Varys"?_

 _Varys smiled grimly. "The Prince, what do you intend to do with him"? Ned kept mum for a moment before a loud cry pierced the silence of the room and he quickly stepped over to the corner where a small crib lay, a crib which contained a young babe, his own, a result of his one-time dalliance with Ashara Dayne at Harrenhall. Picking up his son he rocked the babe while whispering softly to him until the child stopped wailing, turning back he saw an expression of amusement on both Varys' and Lonmouth's faces while Rhaenys looked on curiously. "My son, Jon", he said stiffly before retaking his position on the bed. Rhaenys stepped closer before stopping unsurely. Smiling slightly he patted his hand on the bed beside him, "Would you like to see him Princess"?_

 _Rhaenys smiled widely, before almost jumping on the bed as she gazed down on the black haired child. Turning his attention back to Varys and Lonmouth he grew grim again. "I had thought to raise Daeron as mine own bastard son, with a different name of course"._

 _Varys shook his head slightly. "Would that you could. The babe's features will prevent you from doing so unless you look him away in a place like the neck, or Bear Island perhaps. You already have the one bastard", he said as he pointed to the babe who was now held carefully in Rhaenys' hands. "You returning with another one who is clearly from a different mother would draw far too much attention, his identity would be guessed quickly enough and Robert would call you to task for it"._

 _Sighing tiredly Ned nodded. "What do you suggest then Lord Varys? I truly do not know what to do anymore". Varys stroked his chin slightly before lowering his hand again. "Send a Raven to Riverrun instructing your wife to take a ship to White Harbour and make for Winterfell from there. Another to your brother, asking him to meet us in the Neck where we can discuss with more privacy. Join the remaining Northmen here in the south who are escorting prisoners to the Wall. Lonmouth, the Princess and myself will make our own way there…just give us a letter we can show to Lord Reed to prove we are invited"._

 _Looking suspiciously at Varys, wondering what the Spider had in mind he wrote down a short message for Howland, explaining the situation as much as he dared. As soon as Lonmouth had taken the letter, he, Varys and Rhaenys left, leaving Ned to once again worry of how he was going to explain away Jon to his Lady Wife._

As soon as he had sent the ravens he had met up with the few remaining northmen who were leading a small procession of men bound for the wall, former defenders of Kings Landing who had survived the sack and given the choice of their head on spikes or the wall. Two knights, Sers Alliser Thorne and Jeremy Rykker amongst them. The journey north took its time, due to most of the men not having mounts but after almost a month (including a very long day with Walder Frey trying to foist off his sons and daughters when they passed the Twins) the northmen were escorted through the Neck to Greywater Watch under the sharp eyes of the Crannogmen.

A feast was thrown in Ned's honour for having returned north and even the prisoners were given a hearty meal and good drink. As soon as night fell and the northern lords and their men retired, Howland had escorted Ned and Benjen out of the Castle and out into the swamps where a table, a small fire and Oswell and Varys awaited.

"Ned, what is the meaning of this"? Benjen asked sharply as he recognised Oswell who had the start of a fine beard on his chin. Ned gestured for Benjen to sit before he explained all that had happened in the south as the other three men sat in silence. Lyanna's death, finding Daeron, meeting Varys, Lonmouth and Rhaenys, Robert explaining away the murder of Elia and the children as acceptable due to them being 'Dragonspawn', once all was explained Benjen just sat there, in shock.

"Where is Lonmouth"? Ned asked Varys as he had noted the absence of Rhaegar's former squire. "As Lord Commander of his Grace's Kingsguard, I swore in Richard Lonmouth when he arrived with the Princess. He stands vigil over his Grace and his sister tonight", Oswell spoke softly with his deep voice. Ned nodded slightly in acknowledgement, "So here we are, to discuss what needs be done to ensure the safety of my nephew and his sister, I would hear your thoughts", Ned looked at the others and Howland spoke first.

"I could keep them both safe here in the Neck My Lord". Benjen shook his head slightly. "No doubt you would raise them, and raise them well…but they could never leave, and even here in your keep they would have to be kept hidden from most of the household".

Oswell raised his hand to cut off Howland's reply. "There is no place in Westeros that is safe for the children. Dorne would take them, but assuming they do not rebel after what happened to Elia and Aegon will be kept under particularly close watch".

Ned, Benjen and Howland all raised their eyebrows in disbelief. "You believe that Dorne would not murder the babe on sight considering who his mother is, and the result of his conception"?

"The Dornish do not kill children Lord Stark", Oswell spoke gravely. "Besides, his mother aside, His Grace is the Princess Rhaenys' brother, and carries a much greater claim than the usurper, and Doran has a daughter to wed away…trust me, for a chance of vengeance they would flock to His Grace's side".

"It may be so", Varys said slowly, "yet the point stands. The children cannot stay in Westeros". Ned narrowed his eyes slightly as his face tightened. "You would send them away to Essos? To grow up without family, alone and in danger"? His hands clenched angrily at the thought.

"They would not be alone brother", Benjen spoke softly. "I-I knew what Lyanna intended to do, I helped her escape, and father and Brandon paid with their lives. I was stuck ruling the North, wondering everyday if a raven would arrive bearing news of your death", Benjen's head was bowed and his grey eyes glistened with tears as his voice trembled.

"I intended to take the black now that you've returned home, instead I'll go with Daeron, I'll teach him what it means to be a Stark regardless of his name, he is as much a wolf as a dragon". At first Ned was tempted to outright refuse Benjen, yet seeing how broken his brother looked, and the newfound determination in his eyes he acquiesced. "I cannot say I approve of this brother", Ned spoke, "But in truth I would feel better knowing that a Stark is watching over our nephew". "The question stands however, where will they go"?

"I believe I can answer that Lord Stark", Varys said. "The Queen grows with child and keeps Prince Viserys close, yet refuses to leave the safety of Dragonstone, my birds delivered a song to Grand Admiral Luciferys Velaryon, former Master of Ships and brother to Lord Ormund Velaryon of Driftmark", pausing to sip from his goblet he continued. "The Admiral left in the night with ten ships from the Royal Navy and five hundred loyal men ready to serve His Grace, a large amount of the gold that Aerys sent with the Queen to Dragonstone will be on board".

Ned grimaced at this. "And what do you think Robert will say when ships from the Royal Navy shows up in the North only to leave without a struggle"?

"Already handled My Lord", Varys smirked. "The ships flies the banners of the Merman from White Harbour, should the Usurper learn of it", Ned grimaced at the name of his friend, "I will tell a that my birds have delivered a song about Lord Wyman seeking trade with Essos, not at all unusual for him do you not agree"?

Ned nodded, impressed at the level of detail Varys had thought of, and looking at his fellow conspirators they shared the sentiment. "So, my nephew and his sister will have ten ships, my brother, two knights and five hundred men? Hardly much if Robert should learn of them".

Varys tittered with amusement. "He will not My Lord. A song has reached my ears of Stannis constructing a new fleet to take Dragonstone, regardless of the Queen's wishes, I will ensure that she and the Prince escapes. Robert will be too busy searching for them, and employing spies and assassins to ever find out about his Grace…there is one last thing though My Lord", Varys halted slightly, as if unsure of how to continue.

"Speak Varys", Ned said sharply. "There are two more Knights that should join His Grace, both aspired to join Aerys' Kingsguard, and acquitted themselves greatly during the Sack of Kings Landing", gesturing to Howland, the Crannogman grimaced as he hooted twice like an owl and three of his men walked out of the mist, escorting two Knights who sneered slightly as they spotted Ned, before blanching as they spotted Varys and Ser Oswell.

Ned rose and gestured for the Crannogmen to remove their shackles and leave, understanding Varys' plan. "Ser Alliser Thorne and Ser Jeremy Rykker, do you know why you are here"? he asked the two Knights.

Alliser sneered slightly while Rykker held his tongue. "We are here Lord Stark to go and take the Black, or are you going to kill us in these swamps"? Ned shook his head. "I bent the knee to my friend Robert, yet I find myself in the position of caring for two of the last Targaryens, one of them being the son of Rhaegar and my sister Lyanna…his trueborn son" he added.

The eyes of the two Knights widened and even Alliser lost some of his grimness as they looked at Oswell who stood up and walked over to the two Knights. "I, Oswell Whent. Lord Commander of the Kingsguard to His Grace Daeron Targaryen, Third of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm ask the two of you where your loyalties lie". The two men fell to their knees in unison. "We swore our loyalty to the House of Targaryen Lord Commander", Ser Alliser said, "and will gladly do so again", Ser Jeremy added.

"Then as Lord Commander I ask you, will you renounce all claims to land and title, to wives and sons to guard His Grace as brothers of the Kingsuard"? The two men bowed their heads. "We would be honoured to serve in His Grace's Kingsguard", Ser Jeremy answered as Ser Alliser nodded in agreement. "Then as Lord Commander I welcome you to His Grace's Kingsguard and name you my brothers, the white cloak will have to wait I am afraid".

The two new Kingsguard both rose and listened as Varys repeated the plan they had come up with so far, nodding every once in a while in agreement or appreciation. Once they had been caught up to speed Ned spoke up again. "I will send a letter to the Nights Watch and to Kings Landing, explaining how the two of you tried to escape in the night and died in the swamps".

"My Lords, good Sers", Varys interrupted, "We must finalize our discussion here tonight. As I said, the Grand Admiral will anchor up in a bay not too far from here in about five days. Once you are on-board you must venture to Pentos, a friend of mine, Magister Illyrio Mopatis has a large manse there where you can recuperate and discuss what your next move will be".

Varys poured himself a cup of wine as he handed a letter over to Benjen. "As His Grace's uncle, you are technically his Regent and as such responsible for his education and upbringing. Give the letter to Illyrio, I assure you he can be trusted and will provide you with roof and food for however long you require". Benjen accepted the letter and looked at Varys.

"I thank you Lord Varys, for all your help". Varys smiled sadly, "It will be hard, once you arrive in Pentos it will be up to you and His Grace's closest advisors to decide upon what to do, I cannot be of much help as my efforts will be concentrated on making sure he is not discovered by Robert and the Lannisters, I do have one last gift though, for His Grace".

Bending down he lifted up a sack with some effort and a long thin box. "In this sack are the five eggs of the last dragon. No doubt they are turned to stone, but their value should be great if you are ever in need of it". All the men stared at the sack, stone or not, dragon eggs were no small thing, both beautiful, expensive and heavy. "And the other gift Lord Varys"? Ned asked curiously.

"One of my birds told a song to Maester Aemon at Castle Black, he deserved to know that his line had not yet ended and that one of Prince Rhaegar's sons still lived. I did not tell him of our plans but I believe he guessed what we intended to do, he sent this and said that his uncle Brynden Bloodraven once wielded it, and that His Grace would need all help he could get", opening the box he drew forth a longsword, the crossguard shaped as a pair of dragons of red steel with small sapphires as their eyes. Held in a leather scabbard he drew forth the blade, the metal dark and smoky with slight ripples through it with a fuller running down the centre of the blade. "Dark Sister", Oswell gasped, with shaking hands Oswell accepted the blade. "I swear to you Lords Stark, I will make sure His Grace gain the skills necessary to be worthy of this blade".

"Then it is settled", Ned said. "Howland will provide guides to escort you to where Admiral Velaryon will pick you up, you must leave tonight", turning to Howland, Ned turned serious. "The nursemaid, does she yet live"? Howland nodded, "He who passes the sentence swings the sword My Lord, she still provides milk from her teats to His Grace". Ned nodded in approval. "Her life will be spared, she will go with you", he added to Benjen.

"Howland, Ser Oswell, I assume everything is packed so that you are ready to leave"? Howland nodded. "His Grace, and his party can be on the road within the hour My Lord, I have fifty men who can escort them to the coast, and with Lord Benjen's approval will join His Grace", Howland said. "Thank you Lord Reed", Benjen replied. "We need as many men as we can get". Howland nodded and turned to leave but a gesture from Ned made him stay.

"One last thing. I have sworn an oath of fealty to Robert, as long as he is King, I cannot give more aid than I have already given", holding up his hand to quell any protests he looked sharply at the Targaryen loyalists. "Daeron is of my blood, if he is attack I will come in his defence, but I will not call my banners to war if he is the one to provoke it…to retake the Iron Throne, you will require armies and time. Robert will not live forever this I know. If you hold off going to war until Robert is dead…I will call the banners in support of my nephew".

Silence reigned for a moment before Oswell nodded. "It will take at least a decade possibly two even to make sure His Grace is ready to rule from the Iron Throne, it will also give myself and the rest of his Kingsguard to train him into the greatest swordsman in the Seven Kingdoms".

"Good", Ned nodded. "Howland, bring His Grace and his sister here, as well as Lord Glover and Lord Umber, and make preparations for the departure". Howland bowed and left into the mists of the swamps, leaving the rest of the party in silence. Few words were spoken as they waited for Howland's return, but after what felt like an eternity Howland reappeared along with fifty of his Crannogmen, all of them bearing large packs of provisions, each carrying a spear, a short blade at their side and a bow and a quiver full of arrows on their backs. Also with them were a slightly confused 'Greatjon' Umber and Galbart Glover, who kept glancing at Ser Richard Lonmouth who was walking besides Wylla who carried Daeron in her arms and Rhaenys who was skipping next to Wylla.

After explaining to the two northern Lords and the Crannogmen who were to leave with the infant King the Greatjon walked briskly up to Ned, heedless of the four Kingsguard who all bared steel at his brusque advance. "Let me get this straight Ned", he boomed. "You led us south against the Dragons and now you intend to raise one of them in the east under your brother to become our new King one day"? At Ned's cold nod he stared at the babe who was now awake and gazing at him with piercing violet eyes.

"For three hundred years we've been ruled by fancy southerners who care little for the troubles of the North. The babe may never know the North as we do, but he will be raised by a Stark and Stark blood flows through his veins, when the boy is a man grown I will gladly call him my King". Kneeling down he drew his sword and laid it at the feet of Oswell who stood before Daeron to protect him. "THE KING FROM THE NORTH", he bellowed as Howland, Galbart and the Crannogmen fell to a knee and did the same. "THE KING FROM THE NORTH! THE KING FROM THE NORTH!", they shouted. After having sworn themselves to secrecy Ned turned to Benjen and grabbed him in a hug.

"Take care of yourself brother, and take care of Daeron". Benjen hugged him back and wiped away the wetness from his eyes. "He may be a Dragon, but I will make sure that he is as much a Stark of Winterfell as he is a Dragon". Releasing his brother Ned, Howland, Varys, Galbert and the Greatjon stood in silence as the party protecting his nephew disappeared into the mists on their journey to the coast. "I will bring Lords Manderly, Hornwood and Cerwyn into our plans and swear them to secrecy Lord Varys, that will be enough for now".

Varys nodded absently. "If you are sure they can be trusted Lord Stark. Now I must venture back south, Kings Landing never rests I'm afraid, and there are so many songs yet to hear or sing". Saying goodbye to the Master of Whisperers when they came to Greywater Watch, Ned entered his room where he kissed his son Jon goodnight before going to sleep, his last thoughts on his nephew. ' _Gods keep you Daeron Targaryen'_

 **AN: As you can see I never intended for Daeron to grow up in the North, who knows how things will change however due to neither Benjen nor Ser Alliser going to the wall, only time (and my notes) will tell. Also, I've always been a proponent of R+L=J, however for the purposes of this story, Jon is Ned and Ashara's son.**

 **As always thanks to every one of you who read/follow/favorited and reviewed my story. I will do my very best to pump out a chapter of roughly this size every week or so, also there will be various POV's throughout the story. The next two or three chapters will be others POV's before we start over on Daron/Harry's POV's as I establish the 'realms' and the 'players' if you will.**

 **As for magic. Wandless magic is possible, proven by the fact that Harry has done it before, and obviously wands haven't always been in existence. Without a wand however Harry's/Daeron's magic will be more raw and primal, so don't go expecting magical duels of epic proportions, apparating however is something that will give Daeron and advantage, since as far as I've learnt it doesn't really require a wand. As for the story itself it will be somewhat of a mix between the books and the TV show, character ages being one thing, so in this case when the 'GoT' events start Daron, Robb and Jon will be 17 not 14.**

 **Tellie571 out.**


	3. Daeron I

**Pentos, Illyrio Mopatis' manse. 289 AC:**

 **Daeron:**

Daeron wiped the sweat from his brow as he gripped his wooden practice blade. Wincing slightly as he felt the numerous bruises on his body and tired muscles scream in agony as he once again tried to launch an attack against Ser Oswell. The strike was blocked by casual ease and he was rewarded by yet another hard thwack on the top of his head by Oswell. "Be careful not to overextend when you lunge Your Grace". Sighing slightly Oswell collected the training swords while shoving Daeron towards Illyrio's great manse, "Time for your lessons Your Grace".

'Your Grace'. His next great adventure sure turned out to be different than he'd thought when he chose to move on after Voldemort killed him. He'd expected to finally be reunited with his parents, only to be reborn, and in a fit of irony he was still an orphan and even worse with his shining silky locks of silvery hair he looked like a bloody Malfoy. His…father had died in battle before he was even born, and his mother had wasted away from a fever that had struck her after birthing him. 'Birth'…he shuddered at the mere thought of it. The experience had been anything but pleasant and the utter embarrassment of his first two years were to him hard proof that memory charms were necessary…and probably why babies' brains weren't developed enough to remember. Constantly being hungry, sleepy, soiling himself and being unable to really communicate in any other way than high pitched wails.

Not all was bad though. His uncle at the very least was a huge step up from uncle Vernon, his slight grimness set aside, who wouldn't want an uncle who not only looked good with long black hair and a truly awesome beard, the man was also quite skilled with a blade and bow alike. He had treated him as a son from the moment he held him in his arms and still acted as a father figure for him, curiously enough reminding him of a strange mix of Remus Lupin and Sirius Black. He smiled slightly to himself as he wandered through the grand hallways with Ser Oswell following a few steps behind. He remembered quite well being Harry Potter, and he missed his friends and Hogwarts. Yet it was strangely liberating being Daeron Targaryen, there were no crazed fans after him. No nosy reporters dogging his every move, and lack of public amenities aside (like proper toilets) he found that he preferred this relatively…simpler lifestyle.

For the first time he could remember he enjoyed learning. Uncle Benjen educated him about the Starks and the North in general, while Oswell was a veritable fount of information about his paternal family. And there lay some of the downside, he had gleamed enough from his family history by now, glimpses of thoughts from his guardians whenever he looked them in the eye to know that King Robert Baratheon and Tywin Lannister would see him dead if they ever learned of his existence. (turns out that learning Occlumency, not to mention his connection to Voldemort for all those years had made him develop some talent for casual legilimency). When it came to himself he had no fears of them catching him, as his secret experimentation with magic during night time proved that he could still apparate. His sister Rhaenys could not however, and if there was one thing Daeron was sure of it was that he would protect Rhaenys to his last breath.

She was a sweet girl, olive skin and black of hair with eyes the same haunting shade of violet as his own, and a large amount of…youthful exuberance. She was very smart and enjoyed learning, and tales of adventure and legendary creatures. She almost seemed like a perfect mix between Hermione and Luna, which certainly explained somewhat of why he was so fond of her, not to mention the fact that she was his sister, of course not all was well. Rhaenys being three years older than him was just old enough at the end of 'Roberts Rebellion' as they called it in Westeros that she could remember some of it. She still woke up screaming from nightmares from time to time, sobbing as she remembered her mother, their father and their brother Aegon.

Just the thought of his dead half-brother was enough to set Daeron's rage flaring. His brutal murder reminding him of the cruelties of Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Yet again members of his family had been murdered, taken from him simply for the fact that he was born, though this time instead of a vague prophecy they had been murdered for the greed of a few men…as well as the madness of his grandfather. For six years he had thought about the events that had preceded his birth in this strange new world, and the events that followed. Most of his family (on both sides) had been murdered, and the Usurper Robert of the House Baratheon had sworn to end every Targaryen still alive. Had Daeron been alone he would not worry, after all a wandless wizard was still a wizard, and as such almost impossible to trap, and as his sword lessons that had been going on for about a year now, his earlier short (and violent) life and duels as well as playing seeker gave him some truly impressive instincts and reflexes that showed in his swordplay.

His efforts with magic were less impressive. At first he had been unable to do anything, and ironically enough his occlumency only helped to make sure that his efforts failed. The sort of magic he had learnt in his previous lifetime was simply to complex…too refined to implement without a precision focus like a wand, that did not mean magic was impossible however. Once when he was four his occlumency failed him as he had wasted yet another night of sleep to attempt to wield magic and his temper had snapped. The few candles he had burning in his room had erupted like large bonfires, the wick and the wax alike being consumed in seconds in massive conflagrations of white hot flames, anything up to things as large as chairs had floated about or blown violently across the room to shatter on the walls and floor alike, and it was a miracle no one had woken. The ensuing lecture he got from his uncle the next day had not been pleasant though, and his beloved sister and only real friend Rhaenys had not helped matters as she stood beside Benjen, trying to look serious as she shook with silent mirth.

Still, his incident had proven that magic could be harnessed, on a more primal level, far more instinctive and primitive than he had been used to, and as he painstakingly worked every night he started to gain more and more respect for the ancient wizards who had never had such things as wands or the like. So far his abilities were restricted to moving small objects with a gesture, summoning globes of light, or calming a person through a gentle touch…the exception however was fire. Perhaps the volatile nature inherent in all wizards (his own temper having proved more than once that wizards were dangerous) or due to his Targaryen ancestry he found that he had an…unnatural affinity for fire. With nought but a blink of his eye he could make a small flame into a roaring inferno of destruction. The flame from a single candle was enough to be directed to scorch something like a heavy oak chair into cinders in the span of seconds, however he could still not perform more than a few 'tricks' before he needed rest, drained and tired from its use, so he decided to only use magic in the direst of circumstances.

Still there were other forms of magic. His constant practice and exploration of his talents gave him an increased 'awareness', aided by his talents for passive legillimency made him an excellent reader of people, and more in contact with his environments. And potions were another matter entirely. While he doubted he would ever become a potions master, six years of potion studies had given him more than enough knowledge that he could create a lot of potions and poisons alike. Even potions that required traditionally magical ingredients could be imitated in less potent forms if you switched ingredients that…represented for the lack of a better words the same characteristics. Intents, Daeron had learnt meant as much, if not more than then correct number of stirs, our clockwise/counter clockwise stirs and the like. As hard it was for him to actually agree with Snape, potions truly was an art that, if you knew your ingredients and to an extent followed your instincts could perform marvellous feats, sadly he knew he would never be able to recreate such powerful brews such as Felix Felicis or Polijuice. To the fortune of himself and his protectors he was however able to create supplemental potions that could save lives such as pepper ups, weak blood replenishers, and most importantly potions that could cure all manner of ails that in a world and society as this could be deadly such as: fevers, infections, boils or even pneumonia and strong burns.

Speaking of burns, he found it strange that he could stand heat so well. Pentos was almost tropical in its temperature, and while Uncle Benjen or Ser Oswell seemed to labour some in the heat, most of the day seen with heavy sweat across their brows even with their thin clothing, both himself and Rhaenys barely felt the heat, it just felt comfortable.

Bidding Ser Oswell to wait for him outside his room Daeron entered to change out of his exercise outfit. Seeing Rhaenys stretched out like a cat in a leather recliner with a book in her hand he grinned slightly as he swiftly removed his sweat soaked shirt and launched it at her. "BROTHER"! she yelled angrily as she stood up and advanced on him with her hands stretched out threateningly. "What have I told you about throwing your disgusting clothes at me"? she growled angrily as she pounced on him with surprising speed and started to tickle him mercilessly.

"Not to…not…please sister…stop…Rhaenys please stop I give I give", he stuttered out between peals of laughter as he squirmed beneath her deadly hands. Rhaenys giggled slightly as she stood up from their prone position on the floor and helped him up, narrowing her eyes as he grumbled underneath his breath. "What was that sweet brother"? she said with a sickly sweet tone to her voice.

Looking grumpily at her Daeron spoke up a bit. "You do the same", raising his hands quickly in a peaceful gesture he cut off her reply, "which is your prerogative as a Princess dear sister". Rhaenys smirked slightly at yet another victory over her little brother as she gave him a kiss to his forehead. "You may be King little brother, but sister knows best", she grinned as she stepped out of his reach before he could attempt any retaliation.

Daeron just sighed as he removed his breeches before walking over to his wardrobe to lay out clothes for after he'd had his bath. Looking over to the hearth he let out a loud sigh as he observed that the cauldron of hot water was conspicuous in its absence, the only thing in it were two of the dragon eggs he had been gifted with. While he was dubious about dragons, quite clearly recalling bother Norberta the Norwegian Ridgeback as well as the Horntail he'd gone up against as a fourteen-year-old he was fascinated by the fact that Targaryens had ridden and controlled dragons so he had decided to try and hatch two of them…purely for academic reasons of course. He was disappointed however as even after six months in a warm fiery hearth the eggs had not given the slightest sign of hatching, and from what he could remember from Hagrids teachings he knew they should have hatched already. Walking over to the hearth he took one of the eggs, coloured blue and black from the flames, not feeling any discomfort from doing so.

He and Rhaenys had discovered almost a year ago that fire did not act as destructive to either of them as one of their tickle fights had led to Rhaenys tripping and falling straight into the burning hearth. Both himself and Rhaenys had screamed in fright and serious Ser Alliser had come running into the room and dragged her out of the fire before stopping in disbelief as he and Daeron both stared at her. Her clothes had for the most part been burned away and she was covered in soot, yet completely unharmed, and that night after they were supposed to have gone asleep they had slipped out of their bed and tested their hands in the fire. They were not immune to the flames, that was clear as they could feel the heat building but they had been able to keep a hand each inside the fires for over a minute before removing them, only to see that while the hand was quite red, as if one had gone into a tub of slightly too hot water, they were not injured.

"You still hope for the eggs to hatch Dae"? Rhaenys asked him as she called him her favourite pet name for him. Turning the egg slowly in his hands as he his magic flow through his hands, making the magic of the little dragon inside sing with joy he smiled at her. "They are waiting to hatch Rhae, I know it…I just need to figure out what is missing, there must be something…" he trailed off. 'Missing' like an ingredient, that last vital piece to the puzzle. Here he had been foolish enough to think of the dragons of this world as the same as in his world while they couldn't be farther from the truth. On earth the average dragon would live around fifty years or so here they could become centuries Balerion the Black Dread had been over two-hundred when their ancestor Aegon conquered Westeros. Dragons here simply 'were', some said they had no true sex, and a dragon could be both male and female during the course of their lives, while on earth there were clearly different genders, it was aggravating. To be so close yet so far from hatching them, their ancestors had known how to hatch them, so what had changed?

The knowledge couldn't simply have been lost like that, books and the like didn't just disappear on their own, and knowing his family history as he did he knew that the most important artefacts and the like of his House had always been placed on Dragonstone, and if there were any men in the realm who were loyal it were the men of Dragonstone. Perhaps it had never been written down, perhaps their ancestors had never conceived of one of their blood not knowing how to hatch them, almost as if it was so obvious that every Targaryen…knew…' _could it really be that simple_ ', he thought suddenly. "SER OSWELL", he yelled and the Lord Commander of his Kingsguard who had no doubt been listening intently at the door, probably shaking his head in resignation at his and Rhaenys' earlier…battle, rushed in quickly with his sword drawn and scanning the room for any threat to his charges.

"Your Grace"? he questioned as he failed to find anything that warranted Daeron to shout for him, knowing full well that Ser Oswell had stood right on the other side of the door. Placing the egg on the floor Daeron took out the other one, this one primarily black with some red scattered about he turned to Oswell. "I require a knife Ser Oswell", he said as he held out his hand. Seeing Oswell looking slightly unsure of what was going on Daeron turned the full weight of his gaze upon Oswell.

Oswell shuddered slightly as those haunting violet eyes seemed to pierce his soul, laying him bare, no child should have such eyes yet this boy was no mere child. He was his King, the last son of Rhaegar Targaryen, and far shrewder and learned than any six-year-old he had ever met. "Your knife Ser", Daron said again, this time there was a hint of steel in his voice and Oswell handed over his knife to the boy before shaking his head, partly in amusement and partly in amazement.

Daeron looked over at his sister who was watching him curiously before her eyes widened in alarm as he quickly slashed the knife over his hand, wincing and biting his lips to keep out a whimper as the pain set in. "DAERON! YOUR GRACE"! Rhaenys and Oswell shouted respectively, and from the sound of running footsteps people had heard it. Moments after, Ser Richard, Uncle Benjen and Lord Velaryon all stood in the room with swords drawn, watching curiously as Daeron dropped the knife and started to clench his fist, letting blood drip over both the eggs. Ignoring their questioning looks he placed first one egg then the other back into the fire and stepped back gesturing for the others to do so. The Lords and Kingsguard watched as Rhaenys, the only one to know of his abilities stepped back as her eyes widened and cautiously did the same as a look of concentration seized Daerons face and with a sharp jerk of his bloody hand they all screamed in shock and closed their eyes as the fire in the hearth exploded upwards in a wave of stifling heat and bright light that made it painful to observe. As soon as their vision returned to normal they watched with amused eyes as Ser Richard swore loudly, he had stood closest to the hearth and had singed his hair and eyebrows. Before any of them could come up with a witty remark however their words died in their throats. There before the now smouldering hearth Daeron stood, naked as the day he was born, covered in soot with nary a hair on his body and in his arms he held two dragons the size of small cats, one black with red highlights while the other one identical with blue replacing the red. "How", whispered Rhaenys, her voice carrying though the room, only the slight purring noise of the two dragon babes being heard otherwise. Daeron's face took on a wicked grin, his white teeth standing out in sharp contrast on his blackened face. "Fire and Blood sweet sister", he said and after a second of silence both Targaryens started laughing as the true meaning of the words of their House became clear to all in the room

 **And that's it for today. I've always thought that the words Fire and Blood had a deeper meaning, Dany using blood magic to hatch hers just provided further proof. There is however no guarantee that you need to actually sacrifice someone or something's life, just blood is mentioned so I went with this. There will be a few flashbacks here and there, detailing how Daeron & Co came to Pentos, their childhood and so forth.**

 **Cheers**

 **Tellie571**


	4. Daeron II

**Pentos. 7** **th** **month 289 AC**

Daeron sighed in contentment as he relaxed in the tub filled with hot water in his chambers. Since he had hatched a pair of dragons three moons ago Oswell had been adamant on increasing his training in the way of the sword "With dragons abound our discovery by the Usurper is that much greater, you must learn to defend yourself Your Grace", he had told him sternly. And learn he did, for hours every day Oswell and his fellow Kingsguard pushed Daeron to new limits, the increasing amounts of bruises on his body showed that very well. Fortunately, Daeron was no stranger to either pain or hard work, Voldemort's cruciatus and his upbringing at the Dursley's respectively had prepared him for it, and he was almost thankful for those past experiences now, almost.

The thing that truly impressed him however was Rhaenys. After the dragons had been born she had flat out demanded Oswell that she herself would join his lessons, and Oswell's protests had fallen on deaf ears after Rhaenys turned her violet hopeful gaze upon Daeron, the slight quiver upon her lips folded his resistance to the idea rather quickly. Being three years older she quickly caught up to Daeron's advantage of having more practice with a sword due to her being stronger, it was only natural, and she routinely beat him as she applied her greater strength, and did not let him forget it either. The door to his quarters opened and Rhaenys stepped in grinning smugly at him while she started to remove her practice leathers. "Nice looking nose you have there little brother".

Daeron growled angrily at Rhaenys, in their last practice session he had tried to employ a hasty block, but due to poor positioning and footwork Rhaenys had punished him ruthlessly by striking hard with her own practice blade and demolished his block, ending her strike by introducing her blade to his nose, and he had no doubt that by tomorrow he would be sporting a truly impressive shiner. "You just wait Rhae, give me a few more years to build up some proper strength and we'll see just which one of us is the superior".

Rhaenys smirked as she removed the last of her garments before joining him in the hot water, striding over to him she wrapper her arms around his chest and gave him a hug while placing a soft kiss on his forehead. "One day perhaps Dae, but for now I shall enjoy being the better one of us". Daeron just sighed and closed his eyes as he leant back, placing his head on her chest as he enjoyed the soothing warmth of the water. "You ever wonder how things would be like if it hadn't been for the rebellion"? he asked softly.

Rhaenys removed her hands and placed them on his head, softly stroking her fingers through his short hair, smiling slightly as he let out a soft moan at her deft touch, a common occurrence these last months. "Sometimes", she said softly. "I miss mama and little Egg…and papa's songs, he song such sweet songs to me", she said as her voice wavered slightly. "But if the rebellion hadn't happened, I wouldn't have you, Caraxes and Maelys would never have been hatched…perhaps it is cruel to say it, I will always miss them, but I wouldn't trade you for the world little brother. You are my best friend", she sniffled slightly and Daeron turned around and grabbed Rhaenys in a hug. "Your right Rhae, I will always miss what could have been, and I swear", his eyes hardened as he stared into her eyes, so eerily similar to his own. "I swear by all the gods in the world, that we will have our revenge, men like Tywin Lannister and Robert Baratheon will have no place in OUR kingdoms".

Rhaenys smiled slightly, returning his hard stare. "We will take back our home, with Fire and Blood", she placed a slight kiss on his nose, giggling slightly as Daeron yelped in pain. "Does it hurt much"? she asked, softer now with slight concern showing in her eyes. Daeron returned to his previous position, shaking his head slightly, "no less than I deserve. My footwork was sloppy and I should have retreated instead of trying to press the fight". Rhaenys giggled slightly, "But then you wouldn't be you little brother, from what we have learnt of our family you are very much like Prince Daemon, though you share qualities with Daeron the good too", she added hastily as Daeron frowned at the first comparison.

Prince Daemon was a very skilled warrior no doubts, perhaps the greatest his family had produced since Maegor the Cruel, yet he had vices too. Hungry for power his entire life had been spent trying to become King, and had the Dance of Dragons ended differently he would have ruled as King Consort besides his wife and sixteen year younger wife and niece Rhaenyra, yet he died a year before the Dance ended. His legacy lived on however, both himself and Rhaenys were descended from the Targaryen Prince and once King-of-the-Stepstones, and history would remember him for his impressive feat of defeating the quit skilled himself Prince Aemond who rode Vhagar, a dragon twice as large as his own Caraxes whom shared a name with Daeron's own dragon.

"And you sweet sister should consider a name change yourself, you're as much a warrior queen as Visenya ever were", he teased her, only to yelp as she poked him in the side before resuming her grooming of his hair. "I prefer _little brother_ , to consider myself very much more like Princess Rhaenys, the Queen who never was", she said with a tone of finality. Princess Rhaenys, the wife of a Velaryon and mother to Prince Daemon's second wife had also fought on the side of Princess Rhaenyra during the Dance, and had saved a lot of the forces loyal to Rhaenyra's side by fearlessly attacking both Prince Aemon on Vhagar and the rival claimant to the throne Aegon II on his dragon Sunfyre. Though she and her dragon Melys lost their lives her heroic end breathed new life and inspiration into Rhaenyra's followers, and both Aegon and his dragon were both badly wounded, forcing Aegon to spend over a year in a near coma as he recuperated.

Daeron laughed. "You certainly have her spirit sweet sister", closing his eyes again both he and Rhaenys just sat in silence in the bath, the only noise was the slight sloshing of water as Rhaenys stroked his hair. "How in the gods name do you make your hair so fast"? she asked. Three moons ago when the dragons hatched the conflagration had burnt away all his hair and now if fell well below his shoulder, and thankfully the colour had changed slightly after the incident. Where before it was the platinum blonde that made Daeron feel like a bloody Malfoy it was now a more silvery white, almost like snow. "Wouldn't you like to know Rhae"? he teased slightly

Giving his hair a slight tug that produced a wince from him she grinned. "Yes brother I would like to know, and King or not, sister…Knows best, yes I know", Daeron interrupted her last words as he knew exactly what she was going to say, having used that argument for years, and like always he felt like indulging her, after all, he never had a true family before and the fact that she reminded him greatly of both Hermione and Lune had had troubles saying no. "If you must know sister dearest", he let out another wince as she gave his hair another tug while whispering ' _play nice_ '. "My potions have many uses as you know, and a simple hair growth potion is child's play".

Rhaenys slapped her forehead slightly while muttering "I should have known". While Daeron trusted both his Uncle Benjen, Ser Oswell and former Grand Admiral Velaryon with his life, having guiltily employed some passive legilimency on them to ensure if they were loyal or not, there were no others in the entire world he trusted as much as Rhaenys. She had discovered him one night when he was practicing his magic and had quickly determined that he was lying to her as he tried to tell her that he had no idea of what was going on. And, after a few hours of begging, false tears and even threathening to run off to 'nuncle Ben, as she called Benjen he had relented. He had told her of his origins and of the many things he could do. He had tried at first to make it seem as if it were just random memories that came to him in his dreams, yet she had quickly called him out on his lies again, and so he had admitted the whole truth. He really should have known better than to believe that someone who reminded him so much of two of his former closest friends would not be brilliant enough to figure it out. At first he had been afraid that she would either think him lying again, or worse deem him not to be family anymore, yet in the spirit of both Hermione and Lune she had seized him in a hug and told him that he would always be her brother and best friend.

The downside of course was that she had immediately seized upon the moment to demand tutoring or she'd tell that he was practicing magic. Perhaps unsurprisingly considering their blood she proved to have some talents with magic, her structured and inquisitive mind allowed her to learn the basics of occlumency rather quicker than he'd thought, of course not having a soul shard of a Dark Lord in her head as well being in the hormonal hell known as puberty probably aided her in that endeavour. He groaned suddenly at where his thoughts had led him, which immediately led to Rhaenys questioning on what was wrong.

"I have to go through puberty all over again", that was going to be hell he just knew it. Puberty was bad enough in a modern society but in this rather strange blend of medieval Europe and other various cultures he had no idea how he would cope. "Puberty"? Rhaenys questioned the new word, having learnt several over the years as Daeron had a much wider variety in his vocabulary.

Blushing slightly he started stammering as he tried to find out how to explain puberty, suddenly aware that he was naked, leaning on his equally naked almost ten year old sister. "The ah…umm…puberty is the process a girl or a boy go through as their, um, bodies grow up into manhood or womanhood". Rhaenys stopped stroking his hair for a moment before speaking again, and from the tone of her voice he just knew that she was enjoying this. "Are you blushing Dae"? she giggled.

Swearing under his breath he shook his head in denial even as his face heated up. "Alright, alright little brother I'll stop your torment", her giggling didn't subside however and Daeron mentally sighed as he crossed over yet another victory to his sister's already impressive lead. "You know sweet brother…we really need to do something about your hair", she said suddenly, and Daeron abruptly turned to look at her, her face screwed up in concentration.

Watching her warily he stroked his hair protectively. "What do you mean"? She grinned slightly as she stood up and walked over to the washstand, returning with a couple of shears and a razor. "Come here little brother", she said as she gestured for him to retake his seat between her legs. "Trust me, we'll have your hair looking good". While he had his reservations he knew that it would be better to acquiesce to her request, lest he be nagged to death, she would have her way sooner rather than later so it was with a great sigh that he slumped back to his previous position.

"Oh cease your whinging", she said sharply as she started to run her hands through his hair, the sound of the shears removing large amounts of his hair accompanying her as she hummed to herself. So he just sat there, lost in his thoughts as Rhaenys worked on his hair. Hi thoughts drifting from his past friends and what they were doing to how he could retake the Iron Throne, knowing full well that the only way he and Rhaenys could live in…relative security was to retake the throne of his forefathers. "There, all done", Rhaenys' voice broke him out of his musings and he made his way out of the tub and walked over to the washbasin where a mirror stood.

His fears that Rhaenys had ruined his hair were unfounded. The hair on his sides had been shaved almost completely off, while the hair on top of his head was all pulled back along with the hair in his neck all pulled together in a thick braid that ended between his shoulder blades. Joining him she pulled him into a hug from behind, "Do you like it"? she asked with a small hint of worry in her voice. Grinning he turned and kissed her forehead. "I love it, I look like a Viking warrior", he said. Sadly his words failed to receive the attention he was hoping for and he was forced to spend the next hour explaining what he knew of Vikings, their culture, history and so forth. Needless to say Rhaenys found his stories fascinating as always and found herself agreeing that Vikings in general sounded awesome, remarking that they seemed to be a mix of northeners and the ironborn, a comparison he was forced to agree with.

"Your Grace", the hard voice of Ser Alliser came from outside the door. Lord Admiral Velaryon has returned, as has the guests you asked Magister Illyrio to invite".

Daeron shared a look with Rhaenys before informing Ser Alliser that they were coming. Drying themselves off they started dressing themselves. Rhaenys placed a few pins to keep her luscious black mane in place while donning a rich sleeveless red dress, while Daeron dressed up in black leather breeches, a black shirt and primarily black gambeson with a high red collar and the three headed red dragon on his chest. Finishing his outfit were a pair of calf length boots and Dark Sister at his side.

Stepping out into the hallway he gave a nod to Ser Alliser while offering his arm to Rhaneys who took it with a well practiced hand. "Lead the way to the Lord Admiral first Ser, and make sure to have the good Magister keep our guests happy". "Yes Your Grace", Ser Alliser replied as he lead them to one of the smaller dining rooms where himself and Rhaenys had most of their lessons, as well as where Benjen, Ser Oswell and his other highest ranking advisors held their meetings. In the centre of the room stood a large table, filled with maps, books and various scrolls of parchment, twelve guards clad in gleaming half plate, decorated with the green seahorse of House Velaryon, each holding a halberd in their hands. Already seated at the table were Benjen, Ser Oswell, Illyrio, Lord Admiral Velaryion, a man who looked a lot like him only younger and another boy who must be the man's son, looking about fourteen. Ser Jeremy and Ser Richard stood silently at either side of the head of the table while Ser Alliser whispered something to Illyrio before taking up a position at the door.

Illyrio clapped his hands and half a dozen serving maids, each with a bronze collar about their necks came out with plates full of steaming food and large pitchers of various liquids, grabbing one of the servants by the wrist he whispered a few words to her before allowing the servants to remove themselves from the room. Taking a seat at the head of the table Daeron turned his gaze upon the Admiral as Rhaenys took up the seat to his right. "Welcome back Lord Admiral, I believe you have some introductions to make? As well as news to share".

Lucifarus Velarion inclined his head slightly as he bumped the shoulder of the man seated next to him who was staring at Daeron with wide eyes and open mouth in shock. "My nephew Monford of the House Velaryon and new Master of Driftmark, High Tide and Lord of the Tides and his bastard son Aurane Waters, Your Grace".

Lord Monford shook himself out of his stupor and knelt to Daeron as he placed his sword on the ground, his bastard son repeating his father. "Forgive me for staring Your Grace, you bear an uncanny resemblance to your father. I and the men sworn to my House swear allegiance to you Your Grace".

Daeron rose and walked over to him, gesturing for Monford and his son to retake their seats. "I thank you Lord Velaryon, both for your oath of allegiance, and for your House's never ending loyalty. Not that I take it as an insult but I wonder why you brought your bastard here", Daeron said as he inspected the boy who carried for the most part Valyrian features, with violet eyes and pale hair, thought more blond than silver.

"The boy was brought at my urging Your Grace," Luciferys broke in. "The boy brings…tension with my nephew's Lady wife, and could be of far more use to you than stuck on Driftmark earning her ire", he shot a smirk at his nephew who grumbled slightly.

Turning his gaze upon the boy a few years his senior Daeron stroked his chin slightly. "Is this what you want"? he asked sharply and as the boy looked at his father Daeron spoke up again this time with a much sharper tone. "Do not look to your father bastard. When I ask a question I expect the truthful answer, not the answer of your father".

Aurane Waters blushed slightly, no doubt angered at being called a bastard but replied nonetheless. "I do Your Grace, there is little for me at Driftmark, especially since the birth of my trueborn brother". Monford looked slightly saddened at the bitterness in his son's voice.

"Lord Monford, do you love your children? Do you want what is best for them"? Daeron asked. "Yes Your Grace, I do". Daeron nodded. "What you cannot provide without slighting your Lady wife I can. Serve me well Aurane, and I will see to it that you're given your rightful name and a keep of your own, as long as you accept that you have no claim to Driftmark while your Lord father and his children still live".

The bastard almost dropped his goblet in shock at the news. "Th-thank you, Your Grace. I'll serve loyally, 'pon my words it is so". Daeron smiled slightly at his eagerness. "In time you may indeed thank me, yet not today, and certainly not tomorrow. Ser Richard, Ser alliser", the two Kingsguard snapped to at their names. "You two will be responsible for his learning, do not hold back". The two Kingsguard shared a nasty smirk as they looked at the boy. "Oh I think we'll be able to whip him into shape Your Grace".

Daeron grinned as Aurane's face suddenly took on a worried look. "Ser Jeremy, escort Aurane here to a room and then return". The Knight nodded as he led the young man from the room, as soon as the door closed Daeron turned his attention back to Luciferys. "You have news from Westeros I take it"?

The old Admiral nodded as he took a drink from his wine goblet. "War has broken out in the Seven Kingdoms. Balon Greyjoy has rebelled against the Iron Throne and declared Ironborn independence. Launching surprise attacks they burned the fleet at Lannisport at anchor, while sailing up the Mander to reave in the fertile lands in the reach, Seaguard in the RIverlands is currently under siege. They control the town itself while Lord Mallister still holds the castle. The Usurper has called his armies to him while Stannis prepares the Royal Fleet".

Looking around at the others he raised his glass of water for a toast. "Here's to whomever burned the Lannister fleet". The men roared with laughter as they raised their glasses. "Now My Lords, any thoughts"?

The Lords looked confused for a moment before Oswell spoke, his deep voice cutting through the confusion. "While it seems as a good time to strike we should wait. You are, pardon my saying so Your Grace still so young that the idea of an almost decade long regentship will not appeal to the Lords of Westeros. Also we are still lacking on men and ships…Thank you Ser Oswell that is enough", Daeron interrupted him as he held up his hand.

"Men and ships", Daeron said as he looked at his advisors. "What's more territory of our own. Mayhaps the North will declare for me and perhaps it won't. Dorne will most likely follow me due to my beloved sister", he stroked Rhaenys' arm, enjoying the brief look of shook that crossed Lord Monford's face as he realised whom the young girl was. "But even if both the North and Drone, as well as other various houses loyal to my family were to flock to my banner I would still be a King without a keep of my own. A guest at whichever keep I chose to stay in…if I am to reclaim my Grandfather's throne I must do so from a position of strength with a keep of my own and an army at my back, and I wonder what you have planned for that My Lords", he finished as he stared all of them in the eyes. Rhaenys grinned slightly having learnt of his plans already.

"Your Grace…" Monford spoke haltingly, all the other Lords keeping their silence, knowing full well that such plans had not been laid down proper.

"Worry not Lord Monford, I had already started laying down the foundations for such a thing, your presence here is actually a boon to me. If given the choice My Lord, how many of the Lords sworn to Dragonstone do you think would follow me"? "Houses Celtigar and Bar Emmon without question. Sunglass I would be more careful about Your Grace".

"I see", Daeron said thoughtfully. "Celtigar and Bar Emmon, would they keep my existence secret you think"? Monford nodded. "Yes Your Grace, I can guarantee it".

"Very well. How long time do you have before the Royal Fleet will sail? I assume all of you sworn to Dragonstone are part of that foray"? Monford stroked his chin slightly. "The fleet is due to sail within two moons, Lord Stannis wish for as many ships as possible to join him before heading out, and all the Lords of the Narrow Sea are part of that fleet, we control between us perhaps a quarter of the Royal Fleet in our squadrons".

Daeron smiled at that. "Then your taks is this. You will speak with Lords Celtigar and Bar Emmon, inform them of my existence but not more. They are to send at least one ship each led by good and loyal men. In addition, I need the three of you to figure out a way to steal as many ships as possible from the fleet during the voyage. Do not be over eager in this Lord Monford. I'd rather you send me one ship crewed by loyal men, than no ships at all. Have loyal men placed on as many ships you are certain you can take and have them taken. Once the fleet is to sail through the Stepstones the ships your men will steal, as well as the ships you, Celtigar and Bar Emmon will send from your personal forces will turn about and head for Braavos. Once in Braavos, Ser Jeremy will meet whomever you place in command and turn the fleet towards Pentos".

Monford, whose brow had furrowed during Daerons explanation suddenly laughed, even as the rest of the men in the room, barring Monford's uncle still struggled to see the point of the large detours, and Monford was happy to explain Daeron's reasoning. "The Stepstones are notorious, both for the fact that it is filled with pirates as well as factions from Lys, Tyrosh and Myr, all struggling for control, in addition the waters themselves can be treacherous for unskilled sailors. Losing perhaps a dozen to twenty ships would not raise too much of a fuss with Stannis, especially as the size of the fleet means some will have to travel through during nighttime…we can easily ensure the ships we are sending and stealing will be at the back, and forced to travel through during the night".

Benjen and the others nodded, now understanding the reasoning. "Why sail to Braavos thought? Instead of directly to Penthos, nephew"?

Daeron took on a more serious look on his face. "Most of the men, both those loyal to us, as well as those whom surrender during the capture will not know why this is being done. Once they arrive in Braavos, they will be told that the fleet will join the rightful Targaryen King. By not speaking my name they will believe it to be Viserys, every man will then be given the choice of staying on and swearing fealty of leaving the ships to make their own way in the world, whether it is to return to Westeros or stay in Essos, the choice will be given".

At this several of the men voiced disagreements, only Ser Oswell's and Benjen's face holding approval.

"My grandfather", Daeron said as he held up a hand for silence. "My grandfather was a vicious tyrant, ruled by fear and madness. He burned my nuncle Brandon as well as my grandfather Rickard Stark. His insanity and cruelty aided along by Tywin Lannister's lust for power nearly destroyed my family. Today there are only four of us left, two of them still living almost alone in Braavos, being used as a distraction to the Usurper to keep myself and my sister hidden".

Sighing he tiredly stroked a hand over his face. The shame he felt at using his aunt and uncle as bait as well as the fiery rage running through him at the thought of both Aerys and Tywin threatening to shatter his calm. "I intend to be King, and as King I will more than once be forced to make hard choices. But I will not needlessly slaughter perhaps hundreds of men whom are only doing their duty to their Lord, THAT is not the King I intend to be My Lords".

"This seemed to placate his advisors though he could see that they still had some reservations. "That will be one part of gathering a fleet and an army, yet there are more things to be done. The Lord Admiral managed to abscond with over two-hundred-thousand gold dragons, money that have barely been used at all, doing nothing more than to ensure the men I have here in Penthos are fed, have a place to stay and some to spend for their…personal use. If we continue to be careful with the money which I intend to make sure of we can keep an army of ten-thousand on retainer for at least another two decades, and I intend to have another revenue stream by then".

Taking a bite of the venison on his plate he washed it down with some water before continuing. "Once the rebellion is over you nuncle", he pointed to Benjen, "Will return to Westeros along with the Crannogmen and one hundred of the Lord Admiral's men".

Benjen blinked before protesting. "I will still have protection nuncle, I assume you will still continue to allow me residence here Magister"? Daron asked Illyrio who nodded, swallowing a greasy sausage. "You will always be welcome here Your Grace", he said as he wiped grease away from his fat jowls.

"And I intend to see you well rewarded Magister, were it not for you my sister and I would quite possibly be dead". Turning his gaze back to Benjen who still looked rebellious Daeron tried to placate his uncle. "It is not a mark against you nuncle, quite the opposite actually. There are no one I trust more than you, and everyone else here with the exception of Lord Monford are either supposed to be dead, have duties of their own or avowed traitors".

Grasping Rhaenys' hand he smiled at Benjen. "Upon returning to Westoros you will start in the North and work your way down through the Riverlands, into the Reach, onto the Crownlands and then the Stormlands before finishing up in Dorne. You will visit very city or large town and recruit as many you can to your new Sellsword Company. Lure them in however you like, promises of good pay, honour, glory…whatever you can, bastards should be easy enough with the promise of legitimization, your elder brother is the best friend of the 'King' after all, surely he would be able to sway 'His Grace' into legitimizing a few bastards".

"Nuncle Ned can probably help you by letting you use the ravens at Winterfell to spread the word. I assume there will be more than enough Lords willing to give you their sons so they can make their fortune. Once a year has passed you will return to Penthos".

Benjen nodded, grateful at the chance of seeing his brother and nephew again, who knew perhaps Ned had managed to get a few more wolf cubs by this time. "As you command Your Grace, I assume I will have money with me? An army does march on its stomach after all". Daeron and the others around the table grinned. "You'll have twenty-five-thousand dragons with you, just make sure to purchase new armor for those going with you. You are after all Sellwords, not men of house Reed and Velaryon". Finishing his meal Daeron looked over at Illyrio. "Magister, I thank you for the meal, if you could escort Rhaenys Oswell and I to our guests please? The rest of you should get some rest", he said as he nodded at the others in the room.

Leading the way, Daeron, Rhaenys and Oswell followed Illyrio through his manse, stopping only to pick up their dragons whom were resting inside a pair of cages covered with cloth. They entered a room that contained a few men finely dressed, a man wo was dressed in elaborate leathers with a long spear leaning on the wall next to him. Accompanying the man was a dark haired woman whom, even heavily with child was still very beautiful.

As they entered Daeron and Rhaenys placed the cages on the table before looking at the guests, most of them looked curiously at Daeron, his obvious valyrian features as well as openly wearing Targaryen colours and insignia raised their curiosity. The exception was the obviously Dornish man who gaped at Daeron.

"My friends", began Illyrio. "Let me introduce His Grace, Daeron of the House Targaryen. Third of his name, rightful King of the Andals, The Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kindoms and Protector of the Realm, and his sister the Princess Rhaenys, Princess of Dragonstone".

At that last name the Dornish man collapsed to his knees as he started weeping, "Rhaenys, is it truly you"? he asked in a whisper.

Rhaenys looked at the man while trying to stem her tears, and at a small nudge from Daeron flung herself at the man hugging him tightly. Daeron let the two have their moment before walking over to Prince Oberyn, whom had been invited by Illyrio at Daeron's request, Oswell following closely behind.

"Prince Oberyn", Daeron said, making Oberyn look up at him with eyes that still held a degree of shock. "I am Daeron, Rhaenys' brother…and son of Lyanna Stark". Oberyn narrowed his eyes slightly at his mother's name. "I can understand if you…do not like my mother or I, but for the love you hold for Rhaenys, and the love you held for my brother and stepmother I hope that you can put aside your anger and work with me".

Oberyn swallowed tightly as he let go of Rhaenys and stood up. "I did not hate your mother, it is your father I blame. Perhaps your mouther should have known better, but she was very young and Rhaegar would not have had difficulties making her fall for him, nor running off…especially since the alternative was to be shipped off as a bed warmer to Robert Baratheon", he spat on the floor as he spoke the name of the usurper, but Daeron sighed in relief. "If you would all please take a seat", he said as he gestured towards the table. He took his seat at the head of the table, Illyrio sat down to his left while Rhaenys took her usual seat at his right. Oberyin and his lover Ellaria Sand as he introduced her sat down next to Rhaenys, Oswell took up his position just behind Daeron as the rest of the men seated themselves at the table.

"Now, for introductions, we have with us Tycho Nestoris as well as two of his associates from the Iron Bank of Braavos as well as Anto Veramir representing the Sealord of Braavos, A few of Illyrio's closest friends and fellow Magisters here from Penthos and of course Prince Oberyn from Dorne, and lastly the exiled Prince Xhalabar Xho of the Summer Isles. I have asked each of you to come here to aid me in my goal to reclaim the Iron Throne from Robert Baratheon and his Lannister dogs".

No sooner had he spoken before Tycho Nestoris replied. "We have nothing but good relations with the current regime, why would we back you"?

Daeron smiled disarmingly at the Iron Bankier. "Because of what you will get from it. My return to Westeros will not be now, it will take time and patience". "For some time now Pentos and Braavos have enjoyed peace and good trade with each other something I hope will continue. Both of you are loosing profit however from both raiders in the Stepstones and from the triarchies of Tyrosh, Myr and Lys, I intend to change that".

While Nestoris looked unconvinced Anto as well as the Pentoshi Magisters looked at him with interest. "How would you do this"? Illyrio asked.

"Quite simply actually. Lys, Myr and Tyrosh have just started up a new all out war for the disputed lands, and whenever they are done warring they will be depleted for some time. I intend to use their future weakened state to seize the Stepstones for my own, and with partnership from Braavos, Pentosh, the Summer Isles and Dorne as well as the patronage of the Iron Bank should be able to seize and hold them indefinitely with little trouble". Daeron grabbed a goblet and filled it with water before taking a sip.

"The promise of future rewards would not be enough of course. As long as the Stepstones are in my hands your ships would be allowed safe passage under protection of my fleet, skilled pilots would board to guide them through, and free berths would be given on all the isles. I would ask that each of you leave some ships and soldiers under my command there, in return I and my forces will always come to your aid for however long our partnership lasts". Looking at Tycho he and Rhaenys grinned before removing the cloths that covered the cages and opened them to release the two dragons, almost laughing as everyone except Illyrio jumped in shock and gazed in awe and trepidation at the two dragons who were already bigger than a normal dog.

"Three moons ago, these two dragons were the size of a small cat, at the rate they are growing they will be large enough to ride in a few years…these dragons, would be at the forefront of every battle against anyone who try to attack you. These dragons will win us Westeros".

Silence reigned throughout the room before Xalabar raised his voice. "What help can I provide? I am after all an exile".

Daeron nodded at him. "So I've heard. Over the last four years you have petitioned the Usurper for help retaking the Summer Isles, yet his Lords refuse to follow him to war…their loss for not knowing how war is waged on the Summer Isles. How many men would you need to retake your position as Prince"?

Xalabar looked impressed at someone knowing how things were run on the Summer Isles. War taking places on certain days divined by their priests and resembling small tourneys than actual battles, more often than not leaving most of the combatants alive rather than dead. "I would need sixteen good men to retake the Isles Your Grace", he said.

"And you shall have them, My nuncle will leave for Westeros as soon as Greyjoy's rebellion is put down to recruit men, I am certain there will be more than one skilled Knight or former soldier, in addition two of my Kingsguard will be at your disposal for the time it will take, and from what I hear Prince Oberyn will be more than willing for the chance of…sampling the finer men and women in the Isles", at this Oberyn snorted as he tried to contain his laughter. "Indeed I would, you can count on my support, one Prince to another", Oberyn said with a grin, causing Xalabar to smile. "So in short you should be back in control of your home within, shall we say three years at the most"? Xalabar smiled widely and bowed his head respectfully

Oberyn took the word next. "You have kept Rhaenys safe, and you intend I assume to bring Tywin Lannister and his dogs to justice"? at Daerons nod he grinned. "Then I believe I can safely say on behalf of my brother Prince Doran and all of Dorne that you will have the spears of Dorne when the time comes Your Grace, both to conquer the Stepstones and Westeros".

"Pentos will agree to this Your Grace…should Braavos agree, we are interested in keeping the peace and good relations we currently have", one of Illyrio's friends spoke up, and all eyes turned to the Braavosi. "The Sealord will definitely support this venture, as long as the Iron Bank agrees to endorse it", Anto, the Sealord's representative said.

Nestoris however still seemed to be unconvinced, "The Iron Bank is still not convinced, business with the Iron Throne is good, there is some debt but so far they have made all payments in time". Daeron had been ready for this response and had asked Illyrio to provide him with information from Varys for this exact purpose.

"No doubt you speak true Master Nestoris, yet all is not well. In six years the Iron Throne has run up nearly a million in debt to the Iron Bank, and another one and a half million to Tywin Lannister, and as of this moment they are about to embark on another war. I can understand the Iron Bank not wishing to supply direct support for an attack on one of its biggest clients, but the Stepstones are not one of your clients. I will only require your endorsement and support on this venture", draining his goblet he stroked Caraxes softly over its neck, listening as the dragon cooed in delight.

"Should you aid me in this venture I will pledge here and now that when I retake Westeros, I will honour whatever debt the Iron Throne owes the bank, in addition I would like for the Iron Bank to be more involved in Westeros".

This drew and interested look on Nestoris' face as he listened fully for the first time that night. "DO tell what you mean Your Grace", he said.

' _I have you now_ ', Daeron thought. "Partnership with the bank would be much better than to constantly be in debt. I will offer the position of Master of Coin to a representative of the Iron Bank. In return for services rendered the Iron Bank would receive five percent of the Crown's revenue after expenses each year, on the provision that said representative do his or her best to provide good council and not deliberately place the Crown in debt. Lastly ships from Braavos, Pentos, and the Summer Isles would receive better tariffs and cheaper berths in all territories controlled by the Crown".

Nestoris smiled at last, and Daeron could see Illyrio raise his eyebrows in surprise and…was that approval? ' _learn something new everyday'_ , Daeron thought. "You have the papers for this drawn up yes"? Nestoris asked. Daeron laughed as he handed out parchments to the various representatives, each one held the terms he had offered, and after reading them through thoroughly everyone signed. Standing up Daeron raised his goblet, "Friends. To future prosperity".

All of them raised their glasses and drank deep, before starting to mingle about speaking in friendly tones. Stifling a yawn Daeron walked over to where Rhaenys was speaking with Oberyn and Ellaria. "It is late and I will retire for bed, I hope Prince Oberyn we can speak more together tomorrow yes"? Oberyn nodded and hugged Rhaenys again before bidding the two of them goodnight. Following him Rhaenys laid down on their bed and kissed his forehead before hugging him close. "Goodnight little brother", she whispered as she closed her eyes, Daeron just grunted slightly, already fast asleep.

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 **Braavos. 7** **th** **month 289 AC**

Outside a house with a red door young Daenerys Targaryen hugged her brother close as she wept into his chest. Viserys himself was trying to hold back his tears as he stared at the closed door. Ser Willem Darry, the man who had rescued them from Dragonstone after mother died birthing her had just died from a fever and his servants had not even waited for his body to cool before throwing them out onto the streets. Viserys had barely had time to grab mother's crown before they were left outside alone. He had raged and yelled at the closed door, promising to turn the wrath of the dragon upon them once he came into his throne but it had all been for nothing. The door remained closed and finally giving up he had grabbed her. His little sister and all he had left in the world and hugged her close. "Come Dany, we are done with this place". Sniffling and wiping away her tears Dany had held Viserys' hand tightly as she followed him through the sweeping streets of Braavos, for years afterwards she would always dream and wish to return back to the house with the red door and the lemon tree in its garden.

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 **Oldtown, Arch Maester Marwin's study. 7** **th** **month 289 AC**

Arch Meister Marwin stared at the glass candle before him. Three moons ago the glass candles in his study, always dark as obsidian and unlit had suddenly burst into light, shocking him to his core. After the brief explosion of light the candles had dimmed to the point that they were barely shining, yet for each turn of the moon they grew in strength and so he had carefully studied them ever since. As he sat there gazing his mind was suddenly engulfed by swirling images, too quick to catch any amount of detail before suddenly the flood stopped and he gazed at two small black dragons inside a dark room. As soon as he could grasp what he was seeing the vision ceased and he was again reduced to staring at the candle which had dimmed slightly again.

He did not know how long he sat there in amazement, dragons alive again. He felt almost giddy before a horrible realization struck him. He was one of very few Maesters who not only had a fascination with magic but yearned to learn more about it. If the other Arch Maesters should learn of this, hells if even a single Maester learnt of this they would stop at nothing to see the two magnificent beasts destroyed. Rising from his chair he sprinted towards the deepest vaults in the Citadel, he needed to gather all the few remaining books remaining on dragonlore and study them. Then once he knew more he would decide what to do, but if there was one thing he was certain of it was that he would do what he could to protect the dragons. Proper magic had not been seen in centuries and he intended to see it return to the world once more.

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 **Illyrio's manse, Pentos. 7** **th** **month 289 AC**

It had been three moons since she had woken up. Something had called her from her husband and sister-wife's side in the great beyond. Once she awoke she had gazed in wonder at her grey-blue transparent complexion and she realized that she had been granted some sort of reprieve from the Stranger's grasp. Wandering about Dragonstone she had tried speaking to its inhabitants but none could hear or even see her. They could certainly feel her however when she passed her ethereal body through them, and she had amused herself for some time by doing this as she stayed in Dragonstone to try and learn the current affairs of the realm.

After some time, she grew concerned. There were no dragons abound, no dragon eggs. The banners and decorations signifying her house had been removed or replaced by Baratheon banners of all things so it was with great sadness that she left her birthplace and first home behind, following the feeling that was pulling at her senses across the narrow sea until she arrived in Pentos. Following the tugging sensation, she came upon a great manse and in one of the rooms she finally found what she had been searching for. There in the bed lay two young children curled up in each other, that despite the colouring of the girl could not be anything but one of the descendants of her beloved husband and sister, and sleeping at the foot of the bed lay two young dragons.

Smiling fully for the first time since she woke Visenya Targaryen woved to watch over the two young ones, regardless if they could see her or not.

 **Aight, big one today. As you can see Daeron has not been idle, and has used his knowledge of the Free Cities and other realms to try and set the stage for his return, the first being the capture of the Stepstones as a staging point for future invasion. Though don't get your hopes up, it will be some time still before he can launch an invasion, he needs to gather an army and make sure it is outfitted and trained properly before that point.**

 **Hope you liked the further insight into his and Rhaenys' relationship that is currently as much BFF's as it is brother and sister. As for the taboo of brother and sister, Daeron never really had familial feelings/relationships growing up, so while some part of him knows it is supposed to be wrong, most of the years that means something to him were in the wizarding world, where incest is quite normal (though not at the level of brother/sister that we know off). This will mean that while he has some reservations of it he is far from as…puritanical in his opinions about it than say Hermione would be.**

 **As always read and review.**

 **Cheers Tellie571**


	5. 290-291 AC

**Dragonstone. 2** **nd** **month. 290 AC**

Stannis gnashed his teeth in fury as he read the latest missive from his brother King Robert. The last months had been one disappointment after another. The blasted Greyjoys had rebelled against the Iron Throne and his brother had tasked him of readying the Royal Fleet and sail it to bring battle to the Iron Fleet.

The journey had started out well enough with good weather and fair winds and the fleet had made good time across the Narrow Sea. Eighty powerful war galleys, supplemented by near thirty other ships from the various Lords sworn to Dragonstone had made it to the Stepstones unscathed and in formation, the good news stopped there though. Navigating well over a hundred ships through the treacherous straits of the Stepstones had taken all day and well into the night and come dawn twenty-seven ships were missing, no doubt run afoul of reefs or smashed upon one of the isles, and due to Robert's orders of haste they had no time to send out search and rescue parties, hopefully any survivors had managed to make their way onto one of the islands where they could be picked up on the way back.

The trip past Dorne had gone slow due to unfavourable winds but eventually the fleet had managed to rendezvous with the Redwyne fleet. There he had summoned all the captains and Lords and made his battle plan clear. Using the Redwyne fleet he would draw the Iron Fleet into a trap near Fair Island by using it as bait. Stannis' own fleet would then split in two and attack the Iron Fleet from both sides, trapping them. The trap had worked a little too well and the Ironborn realizing they were trapped had fought ferociously, resulting in huge losses to both sides.

Once casualties were tallied Stannis had to endure Robert chastising him for loosing so many. What had started out as the largest fleet in all of Westeros had been reduced to thirty-seven war galleys in working condition and another seventeen from his loyal bannermen, the Redwyne fleet itself had been reduced to eight ships and Lord Paxter Redwine had been lost to the sea. None the less the Iron Fleet had been completely demolished. His personal ship the Fury had shattered the ship of Euron Greyjoy the Silence into driftwood with all hands, its captain included lost to the waves. And both Aeron and Victarion Greyjoy captured, all in all they had thirteen noble hostages and over a thousand Ironborn captives.

The remaining ships had then sailed to Seaguard where the Royal Army was gathered, and Stannis had been given the ignoble task of ferrying men to the various isles. Ser Barristan Selmy of the Kingsguard had subdued Old Wyk, while Stannis himself had led the attack on Great Wyk. Lord Tywin Lannister had taken Harlaw while at last Robert and Ned Stark had besieged Pyke and forced Balon to bend the knee.

Foolishly enough Robert had pardoned Balon and both his brothers with naught more than a slap on the wrist. Balon's last son and heir Theon had been given as a ward to Lord Stark, and half the treasury of Pyke had been confiscated by the Crown. As if that wasn't enough Robert had further spurned him by forcing him to offer his condolences to Balon for the loss of his brother Euron. The only good thing to come out of the conflict was that Lord Stark had convinced Robert to send almost fifteen hundred Ironborn captives to the Wall, giving their victims some amount of justice at least. Instead of returning home to his wife Selyse whom was with child again, Robert had forced him to waste near three weeks at a grand tourney in Lannisport, continually reminding him that the fleet had to be rebuilt and that he better do a better job this time.

He had finally managed however to take his leave and return to Dragonstone. His fleet heavily reduced however had been forced to spend near a week in the stepstones, losing two more ships and many men to the pirates who infested the isles. They had done a good job in clearing out a lot of the pirate rabble at least, and gotten a fair amount of spoils in the process, but none of his missing ships or men had been found and so he had turned his fleet north to Dragonstone. Arriving at Dragonstone he had set his friend Ser Davos Seaworth to task of rebuilding the fleet once more, commanding his bannermen to provide whatever help he required, that was when he had been given the next shock.

His Maester and advisor Cressen had accompanied him on his trip, so a replacement had been sent from Oldtown in his absence. The replacement however had never made it to Dragonstone, most likely cut down by the Ironborn reavers in the Reach, as such when his wife Selyse had gone into the birthing chambers no experienced midwife had been there, and by the time one was found in the closest village it was too late. Selyse had died birthing his daughter who thankfully had survived at the very least. While he and Selyse did not love each other, he had been…fond of her at least and now a mere six moons later Robert had commanded him to find a new wife, all while he feared for his daughter Shireen's life.

The babe had seemed strong at first according to the wetnurse and Maester Cressen, yet he had been informed that she had been afflicted with Greyscale. For three weeks he had guested Maesters, hedge witches and all manner of healers from all over Westeros and the closest free cities to the east. None had managed to do anything for his infant daughter who spent most of her waking hours shrieking in pain, barely eating even as the grey patch of skin on the left side of her cheek grew, according to Cressen she had less than a month left to life and for the first time in his life Stannis felt actual fear.

"My Lord, we have another one". The voice of Ser Davos broke his reverie as he stepped into Stannis' solar, giving a sad look at the squirming child who was thankfully sleeping at the moment.

Stannis sighed as he turned around and gestured for Davos to bring in the prospective healer. His brow furrowed in scepticism however once he saw who had come, claiming to be the one to be able to heal his daughter. The healer couldn't be more than a child, perhaps nine or ten years old. The boy looked strong for his age with fine features, his pitch black hair was cut short down to his scalp on the sides while the long hair on the top of his head and neck was in a thick braid held together with a leather strip near the end. It were the eyes however that drew Stannis' attention. Clear as amethysts and an unnatural sharpness to them, and as Stannis met the gaze he couldn't help but be transfixed, almost as if those eyes pierced his very soul and laid it bare. Shaking himself out of his stupor Stannis crossed his arms. "You are the one who claims to be able to heal my daughter? A boy", he questioned sharply.

If the boy took offense, he did not show it and merely bowed his head slightly. "Age is no guarantee of skill My Lord, I can assure you that I will be able to heal your daughter".

Stannis personally had his doubts about that, but looking at Shireen's whimpering form he decided to let the boy try, if only for his daughter's sake. "Then do it boy, but know that I will stay here to observe".

"That is your prerogative My Lord, I only ask that you do not distract me".

The boy then went to work. Walking over to Shireen the boy touched her forehead and even the dead flesh itself while his eyes were closed in concentration. Curiously the torches in the room flicked greatly as the flames rose and brightened as the boy worked, and Stannis felt a tremble of unease as he felt…something at work in the room. True to his word however he did not interrupt the boy and watched as the boy withdrew a potion from a satchel at his side. Waking up Shireen he winced slightly as the girl started wailing in agony before miraculously she stilled her wailing till it was reduced to slight whimpers as the boy stroked her forehead comfortingly while whispering soft words to her. Lifting the uncorked flask to Shireen's lips the boy cajoled the girl to drink it, chuckling softly at her grimace to the taste. Once Shireen had drunk the last drops Stannis and Davos both let out a sigh in relief as Shireen seemed to brighten up. For the first time since she had contracted the disease she actually smiled and giggled, and she had a healthy glow to her skin once more.

"I will need your help with this next part My Lord", the boy said and Stannis raised an eyebrow questioningly. "The disease itself has been removed, but to heal her face the rotten area must be removed".

"What do you mean"? Stannis asked sharply as he walked over to the crib.

The boy's face took on an apologetic look as he took out a brown ceramic jar and removed the lid, revealing a greyish paste inside. "The dead flesh must be burnt off, and this paste applied to the affected area. The paste will heal the burns to the point that there won't even be any scarring…it will be painful for her, and if you don't think yourself able to hold her down I completely understand".

"No…I will do it", Stannis said, and then placed his hand on Shireen's chest and right side of the face firmly but gently to hold her in place. He almost loosened his grip in shock as the boy withdrew a flask with a green liquid and poured it into his hand where it ignited with a fierce green flame, ' _wildfire'_ , he thought in shock. Before he could do anything the boy pressed his enflamed hand to the left side of Shireen's face and then, she screamed. It was near torture to hear his daughter scream in such pain and only his firm hold on her made sure she didn't get away from the burning touch and the smell of burning rotten flesh pervaded the room and made itself clear to his nostrils. Almost as soon as it had begun it was over, the boy removed his hand and clenched his fist, somehow strangling the supposedly uncontrollable flames. Turning his gaze back to his daughter Stannis winced as he saw her red and blackened wound that stretched over most of the left side of her face and neck.

The boy however seemed not to take notice as he diligently lathered the wounds with the grey paste, immediately silencing his daughter's screams. After what couldn't have been more than a minute he washed away the salve with clear water and Stannis and Davos stared in shock at her face. No trace of the rot that had festered there, nor the lethal flames that had ravaged her were present, and the boy smiled softly at the little girl as he produced a small dragon made from cloth and stuffed with feathers to the little girl who giggled sweetly as she grabbed the offered toy and hugged it to her. Stroking her forehead one last time Shireen fell asleep and the boy stepped back and almost collapsed into the chair beside her crib and Stannis could see how it had affected the boy. The boy's face was drawn, his eyes drooping with exhaustion and his white shirt and face was drenched with sweat.

"How", Stannis almost whispered as he observed the boy, ignoring the strange sensation of familiarity at the boy's features.

The boy just let out a low chuckle as he gulped down the contents of a potion, grimacing even as steam poured out from his ears. "Contrary to what the Maesters at the Citadel and the Septons of the Faith of the Seven, far from all magic is of the evil kind. Magic for the most part simply is and can be used for many things. In this case a few potions as well as carefully applied wildfire was enough", the boy sighed slightly as the steam stopped pouring out from his ears and his face had regained its vitality.

"I promised a kingly reward to anyone who could cure my daughter, ask me anything and if it is within my power to give you shall have it", Stannis said as he stroked a hand over Shireen's forehead, the fever that had wracked her gone along with the rest of her ailments.

The boy looked thoughtful for a moment before he stood up again. "I have a request in mind My Lord. My Liege Benjen Stark is here in Westeros to gather more recruits for his Sellword company. He intends to stay here for the next year to gather recruits, if you could provide our company with ships we would be most grateful".

Stannis narrowed his eyes, both at the boy's choice of words as well as the information of a Stark heading a Sellword company. "What's your name boy?", he asked sharply.

The boy looked to the floor for a moment before turning his violet gaze back towards Stannis, once more sending a sensation of familiarity through Stannis. "My name is Harry My Lord. My father is one of the investors in Lord Stark's company. As thanks Lord Stark has taken me as his page, and in a few years I'll be his squire", the boy finished with a smile.

"And your last name"? Stannis asked.

The boy looked conflicted as he shuffled unsurely back and forth. "My father told me not to reveal my last name to strangers My Lord, safety reasons you understand".

Stannis held his stare for a few moments longer before relenting. No doubt the buy was the son of a wealthy Magister or Archon and as such not revealing his full name was probably common sense. It rankled him not knowing but he couldn't find faults with the boy's reasoning. "Very well, once Lord Stark arrives I will have enough ships ready for him to shuttle his company to wherever he wishes".

The boy thanked him and begged his leave. Letting Ser Davos escort the boy to the gates Stannis returned his attentions back to his daughter who was sleeping peacefully in her crib. Hopefully his future bride, the sister of his Bannerman Monford Velaryon would be kind enough to at least treat the girl with proper courtesy, he could hope for no more. And once again he cursed Robert for interfering with his life.

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 **Pentos, Illyrio's manse. 2** **nd** **month 290 AC**

Reappearing his room with a soft 'crack' Daeron immediately headed for the washbasin and dipped his head into the water to rinse out the black colour he had added to it. "Had a productive trip brother"? Rhaenys asked as she watched him removing the colour in his hair with an amused look on her face. The sister-wife of their ancestor Aegon likewise stood there with an amused look on her face.

"Fairly", he replied as he took a towel to dry his hair. "Stannis has agreed to outfit nuncle Benjen with enough ships to transport his army when the time comes".

"I am impressed nephew, and I love the irony of the Usurper's brother providing you with his future doom". Visenya had chosen to simply call him and Rhaenys as niece and nephew, since the amount of great great's that would have to be added were simply too many and would be far to ponderous.

"None have asked for us in my absence have they"? he asked Rhaenys as he started to remove his clothes for bed. It was late after all.

"None, I simply told Ser Richard that we were to take a bath and not to disturb us unless it was of paramount importance", Rhaenys said with a smile as she slipped under the covers.

Daeron let out a sigh of relief. Doubtlessly some pointed questions would be asked when Benjen got his fleet in a year or so, but for now he would not have to deal with it. "And you sister, what have you done while I was away procuring more support for our army and navy", Daeron asked as he too slipped into the bed.

Rhaenys punched him lightly on the should as she affected an affronted look. "I learnt more about dragons and sorcery to from aunt 'Senya while you were healing the children of our enemies".

"Fine, fine", he said as he spread his arms defensively. "Though I would like to point out that regardless of the crimes of her father and uncle, the girl has done us nothing, and she is kin no matter how far removed…no child should have to suffer so, and we got more ships out of the deal too".

" **Children** ", Visenya interrupted in a sharp tone that made both Daeron and Rhaenys look down guiltily. She sheek her head as she looked at them with a fond look on her usually stern face. "You remind me so much of my husband and sister-wife, they too argued much like yourselves". Daeron and Rhaenys both looked away stubbornly, refusing to admit that they were arguing, prompting Visenya to break out in laughter.

The day Visenya had appeared was a day that Daeron remembered quite well.

 **Flashback:**

 _Daeron awoke sleepily, carefully untangling himself from Rhaenys' grasp. Still half asleep he had stumbled drunkenly into the privy to do his morning ablutions and to wash his face. Smiling now that he was slightly more awake he whistled merrily as he walked back to their bedchamber. Quite pleased at the result of last night's meeting. As he entered their bedchamber he was just about to shout at Rhaenys to wake up when he stopped dead in his tracks._

 _Standing by the bed with a fond look on her face stood a tall, beautiful and stern woman. Her place translucence proved without a doubt that it was a ghost but he could still make a pretty accurate guess as to the identity of the woman._

 _Her long pale hair was tied in a thick elaborate braid that ran down her back. She wore a tunic with rich artwork culminating in a large three headed dragon across her ample chest, and he could spot the signs of heavy dark mail underneath her tunic. Her legs were covered in leather breeches that looked so tight he almost wondered if she had been poured into them, her lower legs capsuled in plated boots and she had a skirt of mail that ended slightly above her knees. At her side hung an ethereal copy of Dark Sister in a scabbard fastened to her belt and a small circlet of steel and rubies was on her head._

" _Visenya", he whispered, causing the woman to jerk and look at him in shock._

" _You can see me"? she asked as she stared at him._

 _Daeron smiled and nodded before wandering over to the bed. Gently he placed a hand over Rhaenys' mouth and shook her awake. As she opened her eyes she glared at him before staring at Visenya in shock, only a quick shushing motion by him stopped her from screaming in fright. Once he was certain she would not scream he removed his hand and smiled. "Rhae, let me introduce you to our ancestor's sister-wife, Visenya Targaryen, mother of Maegor"._

 _Rhaenys stared at Visenya, shock still present on her face before she managed to find her voice. "How? What is she"?_

 _Visenya herself seemed unsure but before she could offer an explanation Daeron offered his own. "She's a ghost Rhae. Here to help us I hope", he added as he looked at Visenya._

 _Visenya sat down at the edge of the bed and looked back and forth between the two children and the small dragons at her feet. "I assume so, I felt pulled in this direction since I first woke three moons ago, and from what little I have managed to learn it is good that I came…tell me everything, what has become of our house, where are all the dragons"?_

 _And so Daeron and Rhaenys launched into an explanation. Leaving out Daeron's…unique past, they told her all they knew of what had happened since she died on Dragonstone near three hundred years ago. The Dance of Dragons, the Blackfyre Rebellions, Roberts Rebellion. No detail was spared, even the reign and eventual death of her only child Maegor was explained with some trepidation._

" _You remind me of him you know", Visenya said when they had finished their storytelling._

" _Who"? Daeron asked curiously._

" _Both my son and my beloved husband", she said as she stroked her hand across his cheek, forcing him to shudder as he felt as if he had been doused in cool water. "You have my husband's bearing, while your appearance is more like my son's, no doubt you will be one of the greatest warriors in Westeros once you grow some more"._

 _Daeron nodded slightly, almost lost in thought before Visenya's voice brought him back to the present. "Now tell me, what do the two of you know about dragons"?_

 **Flashback ends:**

After that initial conversation Visenya had taught them both much about dragonlore. While most of the dragonriders in Old Valyria had controlled their dragons through the use of special magical horns the Targaryens had never had them in their possession and as such employed sorcery as an alternative. The end result was that while the dragon would be loyal to a fault to its rider for as long as he or she lived, it was much more difficult to earn the dragon's trust and loyalty, and more than one Targaryen had been consumed by his or her prospective mount.

Visenya herself and her son Maegor were the last Targaryens who were skilled in sorcery as her nephew Aenys never had the talent, and she herself had died before she could properly teach her grand nieces and nephews, Maegor not teaching anyone due to his lust for power and greed. This she said explained much about the later Targaryens and the propensity for stillbirths and/or insanity.

Contrary to what most believed the Targaryens and other valyrians of old were very much aware of the dangers of inbreeding to keep the bloodlines pure, but tempered the dangers through ancient sorcery that removed such dangers. The trade-off however was their tempers. The amount of sorcery and actual dragonblood in their veins led to most Targaryens to have mercurial tempers. While relatively easy to master with the right tutelage they could be extremely dangerous in their wroth should they lose their control. Both Aegon and Visenya had proved this when their sister Rhaenys and her dragon Meraxes had been killed in Dorne. Their wrath had been so great they had both taken to their Dragons and burnt almost half the castles and cities of Dorne to the ground with dragonfire.

Most of this had been written down, and Visenya feared foul play had been in the air as the knowledge had apparently vanished over the years, and she feared that someone, perhaps even a conglomerate of people had worked for a long time to destroy the Targaryens. The disappearance of the dragons, especially when she was told of how the last dragon had been born weak and sickly with barely developed wings and died in its infancy, perhaps even the Tragedy of Summerhall, all of it connected.

Fortunately with Visenya now at their disposal himself and Rhaenys spent every night before going to sleep learning about sorcery, dragonlore and about ancient valyrian secrets once thought lost. No doubt due to the same one whom had worked to eradicate the Targaryens for centuries.

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 **Legion Fort, outside Pentos. 4** **th** **month 291 AC**

When Benjen had returned to Pentos in the waning days during the two-hundred and ninetieth year AC he had been surprised to have been directed to take the fleet back to sea and anchor up in the next bay further south. The reason however became clear once he made it to the designated spot. A fleet of over fifty ships were anchored at what seemed to be a fledgling port city. A Huge harbour had been constructed and relatively simple buildings of brick and mortar had been erected with uncanny precision, the streets themselves followed straight paths and in the centre of the city stood a relatively large fort constructed out of stone and wood. A symmetrical defence line of spiked ditches, wooden palisades and watchtowers protected the establishment.

Once he disembarked from his ship he was met with a young man clad in a red tunic and knee length trousers. Ankle length leather boots and greaves of steel protected his legs. His forearms protected by steel armguards in the shape of interlocking plates held together with leather strips. His torso and shoulders down to his upper arms was protected with overlapping plates of steel fastened together with brass hooks and he could spot chainmail underneath that ended slightly below the waist and went down just past his bicep. At his side he carried a relatively short but broad sword that seemed to taper into a fine point in a leather scabbard. A very large rectangular shield was slung across his back and his arm held a spear with an unusually long thin point. Protecting his head was a strange helmet that went out behind his head to protect his neck, while separate plates went down on each side of his face and locked together with leather strips underneath the chin, leaving him with perfect sight and hearing but still protecting the head.

Standing to attention the young man slammed a fist against his chestplate. "My Lord, if you will follow me I will take you to His Grace".

Following the soldier Benjen let his eyes roam about as they followed the largest avenue that led from the docks to the fort in the centre. All around him men walked to and fro with stunning precision, all dressed in the same garbs and armour. Some men were practicing in tight formations with interlocking shields and practice blades. Some men who were definitely Knights from their gleaming half or full plate stood alongside others who were probably officers as they were dressed like the soldiers but with more elaborate armour and capes or plumed helmets occasionally walked over and tapped a soldier on the arm, causing said soldier to fall to the ground to play dead.

Others again were practicing their archery, some were wrestling with each other as men stood around and yelled out encouragements as they placed bets. On a hill outside of the palisades he could spot cavalry riding in various formations, no doubt executing drills. In other words, Benjen was stunned. Never had he seen such precision, everything around him pointed to careful planning and consideration to maximise effectiveness. From the placement of the buildings to privies and weapon racks, and he just knew that this…this work of art had been borne from the mind of his nephew.

The boy he had raised and look on as a son had always been intelligent, soaking up information like a rag dropped in water. After barely more than a few lessons the boy had proved himself able to both read and write, he understood concepts of politics and warfare better than many men Benjen had known in his life and seemed unnaturally perceptive and knowledgeable about human nature. Though how he had managed to get to Stannis and heal his daughter in return for a fleet was beyond him, as he doubted anyone of his guardians or caretakers would have permitted it, yet somehow he had done it.

Entering into the courtyard of the inner fort the soldier pointed out his nephew who was practicing his swordplay and turned back around to return to his duties. Benjen walked over to where Daeron was fighting against Ser Oswell and took in the sight of his nephew. He had grown since Benjen saw him last over one and a half years ago. His bare arms and torso now had the hints of wire strong muscles for his age and he had moved up from a wooden longsword to a blunted bastard sword of steel and was swinging it with elegant grace and control. Almost a foot taller from what he'd been when Benjen left for Westeros his nephew looked more like a boy of twelve or even thirteen rather than nine.

Benjen admired the bladework which was quite impressive for such a relatively young age before his nephew cursed as Oswell disarmed him with a surprise twisting motion. Daeron did not let that stop him however and jumped sideways and turned it into a roll once he hit the ground to pick up the blade. In the same motion he spun around and Benjen felt the hairs in the back of his neck rise slightly as if there was something in the air. Daeron finished his spin with an angry yell and swung so hard that it knocked the blade out of a very surprised Oswell's hand. And before Oswell could fully comprehend what had happened the blunted sword rested at his throat, held by a grinning Daeron who had sweat pouring from his face.

A shouted curse sounded and Benjen turned to see the bastard Aurane Waters on his behind, nursing his hand while a grinning Rhaenys held a blunted longsword against his chest. Turning back towards his nephew who was now shaking Oswell's hand Benjen started clapping. "A fine display nephew", he said as he walked over.

"NUCNLE BEN", both Daeron and Rhaenys shouted as they dropped their swords and jumped him, grabbing him in a hug.

Laughing Benjen returned the hug and looked them both over closely. Rhaenys at twelve was starting to show signs of womanhood with the bare hint of a developing bosom and slightly larger hips, she had also decided to start wearing her hair in thick braids that were kept back with metal rings and pins. "Look at you two, you've both gone through some changes I see", he grinned at them.

Returning the grin Rhaenys gave an impish smile at Daeron. "Daeron certainly seems to think so", she said, laughing as Daeron started spluttering in protest.

"Need I remind you of who panicked one day when she woke up a few moons ago"? Daeron said as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Benjen barely managed to hold in his laughter as Rhaenys went beet red and stomped away angrily to place her practice blade on the weapon rack. Sers Oswell and Alliser joined them, having already placed their swords back. "An excellent bout Your Grace, truly it has been a long time since someone managed to disarm me so", Ser Oswell said with a slight bow.

Daeron laughed warmly as he slapped a hand on his Lord Commander's shoulder. "I have no doubt Ser Oswell that it will be quite some time before I can do so again, I caught you with surprise this once, no doubt tomorrow you will be prepared for such".

Oswell nodded and handed Daeron a jug of water. Eagerly accepting Daeron took a sip before emptying the rest over his head, shaking his head wildly and causing his braid to swing about. "So nuncle, how do you find the place"?

Benjen looked about again. The inside of the fort seemed to have been built with the same precision as the rest of the complex, the only difference was that the guards on the inside were all dressed in half-plate with mail protecting what wasn't covered in plate, and they were all armed with a halberd, rounded shield and a bastard sword each. "I'm very impressed nephew", he said as he laid a hand on Daeron's shoulder. "Though I've never seen men armed and armour such as the ones I've seen on the way up, especially the swords, they're quite short".

Daeron led them over to a table that was placed under an open pavilion for shade. Sitting down in one of the chairs Rhaenys took a seat next to her brother, while the others took their own chairs. "I thought you might think so nuncle, yet the way they'll be fighting makes it very effective. They'll fight in formation, up close and personal with interlocking shields, so they'll be able to wreak havoc with their small swords, stabbing anything that moves".

Daeron handed over one such blade to Benjen who inspected the blade. "The blade is incredibly sharp, and the points is good enough that a man with some effort will be able to punch through full plate. These soldiers will form the heavy centre of my army. Their discipline and style will make sure that my centre won't break and keep moving forward slowly but surely. A mix of heavy and light cavalry will have the task of charging flanks or positions close to breaking. These…legionnaires are the anvils upon which I will break the armies of those who oppose me".

Benjen nodded thoughtfully as Daeron handed over sheets of parchment for his study. Shoving diagrams and descriptions on how the legion should work, formations, salary for each individual soldier rank, and even delegation of duties for the various formations. "Excuse me nephew, from this…do you intend to make a fortified camp every night"? he asked.

Daeron grinned as he handed over another parchment. "Every man will carry with him what is needed, with this admittedly quite heavy pack and the baggage train the Legion will be able to make a fortified camp in roughly three hours and we're working hard to cut that time lower".

"We"? Benjen questioned.

Ser Oswell smiled proudly as he spoke up. "His Grace has decided that everyone will do their part, everyone, from the auxiliaries moving the baggage to the officers share the load. Everyone helps dig, everyone helps erect the tents, all share in kitchen duties and take part in daily training exercises…If any man here had doubts about His Grace, whether his age or his name he quickly won them over by partaking in the duties of the men. He has trained as hard as everyone else, delegating responsibilities to those with the talent for it. The ideas were his, but he made sure to ask around to get the proper men for the right tasks".

Benjen shook his head in amusement. "You never do anything by half nephew do you"? Daeron just grinned at him. "What about the spears I've seen the…legionnaires carry about"?

"The spear is a javelin made for throwing just before you reach the enemy. The tip itself is made of lead, so while it will easily punch through armour the tip is soft enough that even hitting the ground will bend it so that it cannot be thrown back at us".

"Ingenious", Benjen exclaimed, he could certainly see the use of such a thing.

"Now I have a question for you nuncle, how many men did you manage to acquire in Westeros"?

"Eight thousand men. Rougly three hundred of them either Knights or sons and bastards of noble houses who were gifted with a horse and proper plate by their fathers. For most the promise of steady pay was more than enough".

Daeron whistled appreciatively. "Ser Richard, it seems we now have enough for you to train up a proper heavy cavalry force, make sure that every man with a horse presents himself to the blacksmiths to ensure that they have proper armour, as for the rest make sure everyone have a proper interview to make sure that they get sorted to the proper sections". Ser Richard nodded and rose to walk away into the main camp where he would inform the logistics department.

"Now I have a question for you nephew", Benjen said. "Why did you move here? Why not stay with Illyrio"?

Daeron and Rhaenys both grinned and whistled loudly. Two roars sounded and suddenly the two dragons fell from the sky only to land with a large thump beside their masters. The dragons too had grown quickly and both were now the size of a large carriage with a truly impressive wingspan, their colourful crests, long horns and the spikes along their spines just added to the intimidation factor.

"The dragons could no longer stay hidden in Pentos so we decided to move before they could be spotted, and the Magisters have proven to be of great help, letting us stay here and providing us with a large labour force that helped build the place in as short time as possible and regular deliveries of supplies. In return our fleet patrol the waters around here and Pentos, and we have two hundred Legionnaires constantly guarding the streets in Pentos working in shifts".

"Very well. What is the next move? Retaking the Summer Isles"?

Daeron shook his head. "We got enough experienced Knights and soldiers from Lord Monford's trickery that I've sent them down under the leadership of Prince Oberyn to retake the isles. According to his belief the isles should be in his control in another month or so, depending on whether we win the last fights, but we've done good so far".

That surprised Benjen, his nephew worked fast, yet from what he had seen so far he knew what he was doing. "So when do you plan on seizing the Stepstones"?

Daron stroked his chin thoughtfully for a moment. "Truthfully it depends. The men we have here so far, have been under heavy training for over a year, and they are still not ready. Their combat abilities are excellent, truly excellent, but they need more discipline and practice. They must be able to stare death in the face, war is bloody business and if one man breaks I intend to make sure it does not cause everything to collapse, and the men you brought us need to be trained up to that very same level, so at the very least another year…probably two years, then we'll see".

Nodding in understanding Benjen stood up and returned to the docks to pick up his effects from the ship. Looking about he could see the organised chaos that was the docks. Long lines of desks, each with a man seated behind a desk and writing down details on rolls of parchment as he asked questions. Others started to escort men who were finished speaking to the scribes to where they would be staying while a few men guided the soldiers coming off the ships into long orderly lines towards the desks. ' _Yes_ ' Benjen thought. ' _This will truly work_ '.

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 **Trade Convoy outside Pentos. 6** **th** **month 291 AC**

Denaerys sleepily from where she sat on her pony. The convoy of merchants they had been riding with for the last weeks had marched all day and it was nearing dusk now, yet the lead merchants were demanding that they continue moving. While they would not reach Pentos for another five days or so there was apparently a new settlement another hour or so away.

Listening in she caught snippets of conversation, some were reluctant to make the stop, citing the fact that they would have to pay to stay there for the night, while others were arguing that it was better to lose a tiny bit of profit than their lives or all their goods due to an ambush in the night from highwaymen and bandits.

Ever since she and Viserys had been forced out of their home in Braavos things had been hard. At first they had gone from one rich man to another in Braavos, begging for shelter in return for rich rewards when Viserys took his throne back. More often than not the door was slammed in their faces, while some of had taken some pity on them and allowed them to stay for a few days, feeding them, providing new clothes and such yet time and again they were thrown out after they 'Woke the Dragon'. Rather than show any fear of waking the dragon they had just laughed or mocked Viserys and told him that his behaviour was appalling and promptly thrown them out.

One day however assassins from the Usurper had found them, and almost killed them before a few men had saved them and provided them with enough coin to take a ship to Tyrosh, telling them that Braavos was not safe for them any longer.

So they had gone to Tyrosh by ship, a three-week long journey. Dany didn't like the sea very much, it upset her stomach and she spent most of the trip emptying the contents of her stomach, and Viserys hadn't been much better. Finally reaching Tyrosh had been a blessing, and they had used their coin to acquire food and lodgings. The coin had eventually run out however and yet again they had been forced to the streets. This time however Viserys had made her beg for coin while he wandered the city trying to find someone willing to help them. Every night Viserys would return to her spot, angry and sad and taken their money to get them a place to sleep in for the night as well as food. Sometimes he even visited the pleasure houses, forcing Dany to stay outside while she waited for her brother to come back.

She thought it unfair that he was allowed to be inside in the warmth but had quickly learnt not to complain. It made Viserys angry when she complained and she didn't want to Wake the Dragon, he hurt her when she did that. He always apologised afterwards though, and hugged her and stroked her hair as he said he was sorry. That part she liked at least, She liked Viserys a lot better when he was kind and hugged her, or told her stories of their home and family.

All things must of course come to an end and yet again the Usurper's assassins had found them. One of them had even managed to wound Viserys with his blade before some men, probably sellswords had stopped them and taken them away to an inn. They had paid for rooms and food, and even paid for a healer to fix the wound Viserys had taken to his arm. Once Viserys was well they had given them some money and told them to leave Tyrosh before the usurper sent more men after them.

Myr had been just as Tyrosh, Dany had to beg for money every day until one day they had been forced to flee from the usurper's men. A kind older man had told them to go to a new settlement outside Pentos and not lie when asked who they were. There they would be safe the man had said, so Dany and Viserys had left, joining a merchant convoy heading the same way. To Viserys' grief however he had been forced to sell their mother's crown to be allowed to join the protection of the convoy and partake in their meals. The whole trip Viserys had not spoken a single word, so sad was he about giving up mother's crown, but soon everything would be better. Dany was sure of it. The man had said they would be safe.

Cresting a hill the convoy broke into exited whispers. In front of them was a large city, protected by several ranks of wooden palisades on raised earthworks filled with spikes and a deep spiked pit ran the length of the walls broken by three separate roads, wide enough for six carriages to travel beside each other, each road leading to a large wooden gate, and men in armour stood guard outside each gate and walked in pairs on top of the walls, and most astonishingly at all every one of the banners waving in the wind on top of the watchtowers was the red three headed dragon on a black background, finally they were safe.

 **Apparently I'm on a roll today, hope you guys liked this latest chapter. As you no doubt guessed by now Daron has decided to make his army in the shape of the Roman Legions, and before anyone starts to give me bullshit about how he should have such knowledge about the Legions, I myself learnt most of this stuff while still in school around age ten and eleven, so it is plausible for someone to know this stuff. Also by delegating tasks to those best suited for them to help organise the lumbering monster that is a Roman Legion would make it very feasible to create such a thing.**

 **Read and review.**

 **Tellie571**


	6. Dragons meet

**Daeronsport. 6** **th** **month 291 AC**

Daeron was sitting by a table along with a few others whom he considered friends. Aurane Waters, Ser Damon Sand a former squire of Oberyn who had recently been knighted. Smalljon Umber heir to Last Hearth, three of Oberyn's daughters, Nymeria, Tyene and Sarella. There was Quentyn Flowers from the Reach and Tristan Rivers from Harrentown in the Riverlands. All of them had either joined Benjen on his recruiting run in Westeros or been sent on urging by their family like Aurane and the Sand Snakes. Rhaenys herself grooming Melys so was not here but she joined them most of the time and Ser Richard stood close by with his hand on his sword.

All of them were close enough in age that they managed to get along relatively well, despite the vast differences in birth status. For hours now the little band had sat in their little corner of one of the many taverns scattered about Daeronsport as men had taken to calling the ever growing city. It had almost become routine for the little group of exiles to band together the first night of every weekend to share tales, hopes and japes while imbibing on wine and food. "AURANE", the Smalljon shouted with his booming voice as he slammed a meaty fist down on the table. "Yeh still haven't told us what yeh hope to do when His Grace here is back on his throne", Daeron raised an amused eyebrow and pulled his head back slightly to avoid the Smalljon poking his eyebrow as he pointed his finger close up to his face.

Aurane chuckled slightly before taking a sip of dornish wine, savouring the bitter taste. "Considering I've been promised a name and keep of my own I think I'll find myself a beautiful dornish wife while waging any other wars His Grace requires", Aurane smirked at Daeron, knowing full well the it annoyed him to be called 'Your Grace' every single bloody minute.

"How about you Your Grace? What will you do when the war is won"? Nymeria whispered huskily just loud enough to be heard as she pressed herself close to Daeron in hopes of enticing a blush from him. Daeron himself once more cursed Oberyn Martell in his mind. AT first he had been excited to meet three of his daughters, yet quickly came to regret their arrival as they quickly formed an unholy alliance with Rhaenys, and their purpose seemed to be focused mainly on making him blush as much and often as possible, but not this time.

Daeron managed to stop his hoot of triumph as Nymeria sighed with disappointment at his lack of blush. Turning his gaze over to Aurane he smirked. "Well, if this wife of Aurane's as beautiful as he claims I expect I'll be spending a lot of time at Aurane's house…his wife will welcome the company".

The others roared with laughter as Aurane narrowed his eyes. "And what, pray tell will I be doing Your Grace"?

Affecting a look of innocent confusion on his face Daeron waited for the others to cease their laughing. "You…you'll be wondering about your good fortune that all your children look like me".

The explosion of laughter and fists slamming the table almost drowned out Aurane's grumpy, "will that be before or after I cleave your head with my sword"?

Daeron's moment of triumph was quickly ruined however as Tyene who was pressed up on his other side chose that moment to run her hand up his thigh and caress the front of his breeches while loudly asking, "Do you even know how to make children Your Grace"?

Swearing loudly he tried to squirm away from Tyene's grasping hand but Tyene and Nymeria both made sure he stayed seated between them, laughing triumphantly as his face turned beet red. "I know very well thank you", he bit out through gritted teeth. Looking around the table he held back another curse as the faces of his friend betrayed them, there was no rescue coming from them as they enjoyed his predicament far too much.

A legionnaire in full uniform entered and whispered something into Ser Richard's ear before leaving. Richard walked over and actually had to raise his voice to be heard over the laughter. "Your Grace, your presence is required…you have guests".

Nymeria and Tyene were unable to keep their disappointment from showing as Daeron jumped up with a quick, "Thank the Gods". Still blushing he made a…strategic withdrawal, walking out of the tavern as quickly as he could without actually running, bad japes shouted at his back as he did. Following Ser Richard he studiously ignored Richard's amused chuckles at his predicament.

Entering his quarters he was unsurprised to see Rhaenys already there, a full set of new clothes and armour ready for him. He raised his brow slightly at the armour. "You need to look good brother", she stated simply as she tapped her foot impatiently at his dallying.

Giving up any arguing he started to strip out of his 'common clothes' before accepting the clothes as Rhaenys handed them over. Black leather breeches with links of mail sewn in. A thin dark shirt with sleeves that stopped just above his wrists. A dark gambeson went over it with a high red collar. Then she started helping him into his armour, first his boots. Shin plates, knee guards followed by greaves. Then came the breastplate itself, followed by pauldrons and vambraces. He forewent gauntlets. With all the armour locked in place she forced a knee length black tabard that split up his legs to his waist to allow for movement made of blackened leather and cloth, with the red three headed dragon across his chest. Turning him around she fastened a floor length red cape on his shoulders before walking over to a box she had standing on her dresser.

Turning back around she held up a circlet of black steel, crowned by fourteen jagged teeth with a single red ruby in the centre. "Your crown, My King", she said as she held it out for him.

Daeron accepted the crown with slightly shaking hands, their best blacksmith had made it according to his desires. The teeth on the crown were actual dragon teeth, four pointing downwards while the rest pointed up. Seven copies of their house sigil had been worked into the steel to represent the Seven Kingdoms that he one day intended to rule, while the teeth represented both his heritage as well as the fourteen isles of the Stepstones. He was surprised by the weight of the crown as he lifted it up and placed it onto his head. Teeth from dragons were apparently just as heavy as dragonbones, and just as hard. The crown itself was uncomfortable, the pour teeth that pointed down felt as though they were digging into his head, and they weight was uncomfortable too.

"What is it"? Rhaenys asked when she saw his discomfort.

"The Conqueror said that no man should rest easy on his throne, that is why he made the Iron Throne. I say that a Crown should not sit easy on a Kings head and always remind him of its responsibility…it is definitely uncomfortable enough that a man won't easily forget it".

Rhaenys winced slightly as she realized what he spoke off, and she could see the way the dragon teeth poked into the skin on the sides of his head. "Suddenly I'm very grateful that I need only wear a simple circlet of silver and stones". She was right, when he had described the crown he wished to the blacksmith Rhaenys had made her own contribution, a simple circlet of silver with seven rubies on it, and as he gazed upon his sister he had to admit that she looked most fetching with her crown resting upon her head. Her black hair in the usual combination of braids and hanging loosely but stylishly.

Her own apparel was very similar to his own, she had foregone most of the black plated steel he was in, for a combination of scale and mail. Only her wristguards and lower legs were covered by plates. Her own clothing was very similar to his own, though a bit more elaborate with gold stitching added to it in elaborate detail, but for the most it was blacks and reds the dragon of their house proudly represented on her chest.

"Here", Daeron said as he unbuckled Dark Sister from his waist and handed it to her. "It suits you better than me".

Rhaenys tried to protest but Daeron wouldn't have any of it. Since he had begun training with steel he had always preferred a bastard sword over a longsword, and since the ghost of Visenya often reminded them of how similar his sister was to her he had a perfect excuse to give the famous blade of their house over to her. Rhaenys eventually gave in and fastened the valyrian steel sword to her belt, smiling widely as he fetched a sword the blacksmith had made for him. Black steel, with a dragon pommel and crossguard, it was very similar in design to Dark Sister, only bigger and heavier. Once both were ready he let Rhaenys take his arm as he escorted them into the 'grand hall' of the fort where two simple wooden thrones stood on a raised dais. Ser Oswell and Ser Alliser, both in their white enamelled plate and white cloaks stood to either side of the thrones, while Ser Jeremy and Ser Richard stood below them.

His elite soldiers lined the walls, in their black halfplate and golden cloaks, pole axes in their hands, each breastplate had a small red three headed dragon enamelled on over their heart, their closed helmets in the shape of snarling dragons with plumes of red coloured horsehair were held in their left hand. Others in the room were officers in the Legions, the Grand Admiral and his highest ranking captains. Knights from across Westeros who had signed up with Benjen and sworn fealty. Oberyn and his daughters, the leaders of Prince Jalahabar's promised forces from the Summer Isles, clad in gleaming gold and finally uncle Benjen clad in simple, but effective gleaming steel plate, with a Stark surcoat covering his breastplate. A golden pointing hand was fastened on his surcoat, signifying his position as Hand of the King.

"Send in our guests", Daeron spoke loudly and the door opened.

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Dany and Viserys waited impatiently in line as the merchant convoy slowly made its way through the large gate. Men in full armour stood with wooden boards in their hands that rolls of parchment on it that they wrote down names on. Every man and woman had to give their name to the scribes, while other soldiers searched though crates, sacks and wagons. The surprise however came when the merchant who had sponsored them was searched and they found mother's crown. "Where did you get this"? the soldier asked.

"From these two", he said pointing at Dany and Viserys. "They gave me crown for safe passage to Pentos yes. Fair trade no"? the Myrish merchant asked in his peculiar speech pattern.

The soldier shouted for someone named 'Centurion', and Dany blushed slightly as she laid eyes on the man who walked over. He was dressed much like the other soldiers, with the exception of a long flowing red cloak on his shoulders, and his helmet held a magnificent crest of white hair on it hanging from his belt. His hair was nearly the same colour of her own and he had dark eyes. His face was stern and his bare arms were heavily muscled. "What is the problem here"? he asked with a strict no nonsense tone to his voice.

"This Centurion", he said as he showed the crown he held in his hands. "This merchant claimed that he received it from those two in return for safe passage to Pentos", he explained further as he pointed out Dany and Viserys.

The Centurion's eyes widened as he observed them and he turned quickly and whistled sharply, causing four soldiers to jog over briskly, offering a closed fist to their chest in a salute as they stopped before him. "Escort these two to the guest wing and make sure they are given a proper bath and new clothes". Turning to another soldier he spoke again. "You run to the fort and tell His Grace of our new arrivals".

The soldiers saluted and gestured for Dany and Viserys to follow them while the last one took off at a dead sprint. One of the soldiers gave mother's crown back to Viserys who grasped it comfortably. Dany and Viserys followed the soldiers in silence, Viseris seemed to be lost in thought as he stroked mother's crown, but Dany was eagerly taking in the sights.

Everyone seemed to be busy with something, exercising, smithing, polishing arms and armour. The place was a beehive of activity. A loud blaring sound came from a man who stood next to a huge bronze trumpet, and hundreds of men who had busied themselves with dice or other menial tasks dropped what they were doing and gathered tools before heading towards one of the gates, the rhythmical thump-thump of their boots could be heard long after they disappeared out of sight.

Eventually they came to a large fort of wood and stone where they were led to separate rooms where tubs of hot water and scented soap awaited. Feeling lost Dany allowed a pair of maids to undress her and lead her to the bath, almost moaning as they started to wash her clean of the filth she had acquired over their time on the road while massaging her back and shoulders. For the first time in over a year Dany had a proper bath and the scented soaps smelling of fresh flowers and lemons felt heavenly and before long she relaxed as the maids washed her. Eventually she was made to get up and the maids dried her off before dressing her in a soft dress of myrish silks. Compromised of blacks and reds she was surprised to see the three headed dragon of House Targaryen embroidered onto the dress, but she forgot all about it when she was shown a collection of jewellery. At the suggestion of the maids she let them fastened a golden necklace with a dragon made from some sort of black stone around her neck, while a small golden tiara studded with seven small white diamonds was placed upon her silken hair that had been properly brushed.

She was reunited with Viserys who was as finely dressed as her in fine trousers. A lose shirt with puffy sleeves and a leather jerkin with their house sigil. They waited in a large entrance chamber, decorated by Targaryen tapestries, while the columns looked like dragons draped around them. Eventually the doors opened and two soldiers clad in black plate armour and golden cloaks escorted them inside before a raised dais.

The hall was large, room enough for over a hundred men to be seated comfortably. Decorated much like the entrance hall, with large Targaryen banners, tapestries, dragon pillars and even dragon gargoyles. Golden chandeliers hung from the room providing light, and on both sides of the raised dais stood a large brazier with crackling flames. Four Knights clad in white cloaks and white enamelled plate armour guarded the dais, two below and two who stood next to a pair of wooden thrones.

The thrones themselves were relatively simple, it was the inhabitants of those thrones however that made Dany gasp. In the right throne sat a young woman, a few years older than her. Olive complexion and black elaborate hair with a silver circlet studded with rubies on her head. Clad in a mix of armour and elaborate cloth with flickering flames on her sleeves and the Targaryen dragon on her chest with a sword at her hip, and her eyes. Her eyes were the same shade of amethyst as her own and she was smiling at Dany with a fond look in her eyes.

Tearing her eyes away from the young warrior queen Dany felt a blush creep onto her cheeks as she observed the inhabitant in the other throne. Clad in elaborate black plate armour, his chest was covered by a black leather surcoat with their house sigil. A sword similar to that of the young woman to his right was strapped to his waist A flowing red cloak was fastened on his shoulders. His face was stern with high cheekbones and a strong chin. A thick braid of silvery almost white hair hung down over his left shoulder and he wore a crown of black steel and long teeth around it, giving it a jagged look and his eyes were much the same as her own and the woman at his side. Clear slightly darker amethysts that pierced her soul, but kind and inviting.

"Your Grace", one of the white clad knights spoke as he removed his helm, causing Viserys to gasp as he recognized the man. "Allow me to introduce you to Viserys of the House Targaryen, Crown Prince and Prince of Dragonstone and his sister the Princess Daenerys".

Standing up the young man opened his arms in a welcoming gesture as he smiled for the first time. A very lovely smile Dany thought. "Welcome aunt and uncle", he said. "You are welcome to say here under my protection until the time comes to retake our home".

Dany blinked in confusion, Viserys had told her that all of their family was dead. Father, baby Aegon and little Rhaenys and their mother murdered by the Usurper's dogs in Kings Landing, Rhaegar on the Trident and mother had died on Dragonstone birthing her. Before she could question this however Viserys snapped.

"I am KING", he shouted. "My niece and nephew died years ago". Dany shuddered slightly when she saw him. His face was red and his fists were clenched hard and a wild look in his eyes. She took a quick step away from him as he snarled at her, the young man had woken the dragon.

The young man sighed as he waved his hand slightly. "Leave us", he spoke clearly, and everyone in the room rose up and singled out the door, even the guards along the walls until only herself, Viserys the young couple on the raised days and the four white Knights were left in the room.

"Viserys", the young man spoke again as he sat down in his throne and leant forward. "Do you recognize the Knight beside me"? he questioned as he gestured for the Knight who had removed his helmet.

Still looking furious Viserys just nodded.

"And would you explain to your sister who he is? What his task is"?

Viserys grit his teeth as he started to speak. "That man", he spat. "Is Oswell When of our father's Kingsguard, his task is to protect the King".

Dany blinked. If his task was to protect the King, why had he not found Viserys before? Why was he protecting someone else?

"Oswell", their host said as he gave Oswell a nod.

"On orders from your brother, the then Crown Prince Rhaegar, myself, Arthur Dayne and Gerold Hightower protected Rhaegar's second wife. The Princess Lyanna who was with child…" more than that he could not say because Viserys howled in rage.

"THE WOLF WHORE", he screamed as spit flew from his mouth.

The eyes of the young man narrowed in anger as he pierced Viserys with a threatening gaze. "My Mother", he spoke with a cool silent voice that sent shivers up Dany's spine and even Viserys seemed cowed. "Was no whore. My mother and father wed before a godswood in the Riverlands. As soon as my father and grandfather the King died and my brother was murdered I became the new King. My sister Rhaenys was smuggled to safety out of Kings Landing".

He took the hand of the woman to his right and stroked her hand softly, leaving Dany to gasp as she realized the young woman must be Rhaenys, her face was very similar to her brother and they shared near identical eyes.

"For nine years have we lived in Pentos, but we never forgot you. Who do you think saved you from the Usurper's assassins who tried to kill you? Who do you think tried to make sure that you were offered a place to stay in every city you visited? Who do you think made sure you had money when you had to flee"?

He started to look angry now, his eyes narrow and a grimace on his face. "And how do you repay that generosity? I've lost count of how many letters I've received from Magisters, Archons and wealthy merchants who told me they had to throw you to the streets since they could not stand your behaviour. You were the rudest guest they had ever hosted Uncle", there was no mistaking it now. The one who claimed to be her nephew was furious as he stood up and walked down to their level.

Even though Viserys was older and almost half a head taller than him, Viserys seemed like a trembling mouse in front of their furious nephew.

"But the worst", Viserys gulped at the almost silent whisper. "The worst was how you treated her", he pointed a trembling hand at Dany. "You spent coin that had both been given to you on my command, as well as coin she had earnt through tirelessly BEGGING in the streets on wine and WHORES! you spent you spent money you should have used to take care of her to please yourself by whoring your way around the Free Cities while she was forced to stand outside alone in the cold of night…your mother would be ashamed if she could see you", he spat at Viserys.

As those words Viserys regained his rage. "HOW DARE YOU? I AM THE KIN-AHH"! his raging was cut short as their nephew slapped him harshly across the cheek leaving a red imprint there. "YOU'LL PAY FOR TH…!SLAP!" yet again he was cut off by another backhand across the face. "I'm GONNA GUT YOU FOR THAT"! Viserys yelled and tried to hit their nephew back.

His strike was blocked as their nephew grabbed Viserys' wrist and twisted until Viserys was on his knees and begging for him to relent.

"Listen closely Uncle. You are my kin so I will not see you harmed, but your past behaviour stops NOW! Is that clear"?

"Yes, yes for the god's sake yes", Viserys begged as tears flowed from his eyes.

"Good. For now, you will be under the care of Ser Richard here, he will show you to where you will be sleeping. You will follow the tasks given to you to the letter without complaint. You're a Prince of the Blood and it is time you start acting like one…Ser Richard take him away". One of the white knights came and escorted a sniffling Viserys from the room while her nephew turned to her and offered her a comforting smile, all traces of anger gone, and he was joined by his sister.

"I am sorry you had to see that Daenerys", he said as he stroked her cheek softly, doing his best not to grow sad or angry as she flinched slightly at his touch.

"Did he hurt you often"? Rhaenys asked her softly as she took her gently in her arms, and suddenly it was as if the gates had opened as she broke down. She didn't know how long she stood there in the comforting embrace of her niece and nephew as she told them everything that had happened since kind Ser Willem had died. How cruel Viserys could be, how often she'd had to go hungry because Viserys had spent their coin on whores and wine.

Once she had finished unloading her troubles she desperately tried to dry her eyes even as Rhaneys and her as of yet unnamed nephew stroked her hair soothingly. "I'm sorry Your Grace, I-I h-shouldn't had cried all over you", she mumbled.

Her nephew, her King just hugged her tighter as he laid a comforting kiss on her forehead. "Never apologise for telling the truth Daenerys, I should have done more to protect you so it is partially my fault". He sighed as he felt self-loathing well up in him at his failure to protect her. "When we are in private like this I would like for you to call me Daeron, not Your Grace…can you do that for me"? he asked her as he lightly forced her to gaze up at him his eyes full of concern and care.

"Th-thank you, Daeron", she spoke softly as she burrowed her face against Rhaenys' chest again. Sharing a concerned look the two siblings helped Dany to her feet and started to walk her back to their chambers. Ser Oswell closed the door behind them and took his post outside their door as Daeron and Rhaenys led Dany to the bed.

Rhaenys spent a few minutes helping Daeron out of his armour until he was left in his smallclothes, and Dany looked away with a blush from his muscled form even as Rhaenys was helped out of her own clothes by her brother. Slowly while whispering soothingly to Dany the pair undressed her till she was down to her smallclothes and gently placed her in the bed and laid down on either side of her and pulled the covers up. As Daeron started to sing lowly Dany felt herself get more and more tired, even as she basked in the feeling of warmth and safety for the first time in years, and before she knew it she had fallen asleep.

Viserys on the other hand was furious. While he had at first denied it was clear to anyone who had known Rhaegar or Elia that the boy was Rhaegar's son and the girl Elia and Rhaegar's daughter. That meant that his rightful throne was taken from him yet again, this time by a bastard of the wolf whore who had dared to strike him. Not once, not twice but thrice. Three times he had struck him, and he could still feel the burning sting of those powerful slaps.

And now he had been forced into a ratty tent that he was forced to share with seven other men. His fine clothes had been taken from him and simple clothes had been given to him instead, and the worst was that the Kingsguard pretender serving his bastard brother had informed the men he was sharing tent space with that it was their responsibility to make sure he behaved, like he was some mongrel pup. Oh he would have his revenge and what was rightfully his. He Viserys Targaryen, third of his name would have his vengeance, for now he would bide his time and try to rally support amongst the other men in the camp, surely there were others who would support him as the rightful King instead of the wolf whore's bastard.

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 **So that's it for today, awaited reunion of the dragons. For those thinking that Viserys will die do not get your hopes up, I have big plans for him * * of course, I haven't decided yet so perhaps he will become dragon snacks after all you just have to wait in patience.**

 **As for Daeron's crown, the closest thing would probably be the Jagged Crown from Skyrim, so if you don't know what it looks like search it up. I changed the design a bit of course into a steel circlet instead of full helmet, but the noseguard is still there.**

 **Hope you liked Daeron's early forays into flirting and innuendo. If there is anything the Sand Snakes are good for it is to make sure that you get comfortable around sexuality, thought with them taking Rhaenys under their wing…poor Daeron. Next update will see a time skip again and hopefully some action too.**

 **Read and Review**

 **Tellie571.**


	7. Slaver's Bay Bonnfire

**Iron Bank, Braavos. 8** **th** **month 293 AC**

Daeron sat at a large table waiting patiently along with a representative of the bank. Dressed as a Summer Islander, his skin, hair and eyes were all dark almost black thanks to a shining ruby on a chain that was hidden underneath his vest. He grimaced slightly as he shifted in his chair, the glamours his aunt Visenya had thought him were not only terribly draining and difficult to make, but highly uncomfortable, yet considering whom he was about to meet he wasn't taking any chances.

Less than a year ago a ship had smashed onto the cliffs near their harbour. Most of the passengers had died instantly yet three had survived though they were mortally wounded. He had not been informed until after the survivors had died the next morning yet the news the Centurion brought hid had left him smiling for weeks. The crew of the ship were men from the Westerlands who had followed Gerion Lannister to Old Valyria over a year past. Half the crew had abandoned them in Volantis so Gerion had purchased slaves to refill his crew. Three months they had sailed the smoking sea and looted the ruins of the once great Empire, eventually turning their ship towards home, richer than they'd ever thought to be with the hold filled with gold, jewels, ancient scrolls and books and a collection of Valyrian steel, including the ancient sword of House Lannister, Brightroar. It was that last blade that led to Daeron's next plan.

He sent a ship with some of his Summer Islanders to bear a message to Lord Tywin Lannister. That a good friend of their captain had come across the ship of his brother, and could verify that Lord Gerion had found what he had sought out, and if Tywin wanted the blade he could meet with their friend in Braavos in four moons. As a gesture of good faith Daeron had made them return Gerion Lannister's bones, including his armour and signet ring. Upon their return they had informed him that Tywin had accepted the offer.

Preparations then started. Several Summer Islanders had been trained heavily until they met with Ser Oswell's satisfaction, and even so Oswell had demanded that Ser Richard accompany him in disguise. Legionnaires had already been dispatched to Braavos in 'civilian' uniform, and with a few token bribes been allowed to stay inside the bank while pretending to work there.

While organizing this as well as constantly checking on the progress of the army and ever growing fleet and city he also had to endure arguments with Rhaenys. She did not approve of him meeting Tywin Lannister unless it was with steel in his hand and an army at his back. She resented that she was not allowed to accompany him, regardless of the fact that he tried to explain that one of them had to stay and not only look after Daenerys and continue her education, but also try to make sure Viserys kept out of trouble.

He almost scoffed at the thought. If there was one thing Viserys had proven it was that he was utterly incapable of keeping out of trouble. Two years of very hard physical labour had at the very least done Viserys some good, as he was now strong, and at least competent with a blade. He was dumb as an ox though, he had faced more corporeal punishment than any other and if Daeron didn't know that Viserys didn't know better he'd have thought Viserys enjoyed the punishments. Constantly getting into fights as he insulted people and even been caught several times trying to convince Legionnaires and Knights alike to swear themselves to him instead of Daeron.

Fortunately, he had seemingly given up those plans after the last time gave him thirty-six lashes across his back, but Daeron was certain Viserys was still plotting and knew that next time he caught his uncle in the act he would have to judge him far more harshly than a few lashes with a whip. It was strange he thought for himself. Once, when he was Harry he would have detested the very idea of corporeal punishment, yet he felt less and less attached to his past life. The memories were still there, yet he was unable to gather up the same emotions when it came to them. Feeling more like some distant past than harsh experiences and joyous laughter, and he knew that his blood and now deep immersion in sorcery played at least some part of why he was changing.

Two-and-ten, almost three-and-ten now he was starting to notice the beginnings of manhood. His voice was certainly starting to change, hair was returning to places where there had been none before and he was growing much quicker. His hormones were also starting to act up, constantly torturing him with carnal desires as his eyes drifted across beautiful women. Worst of all was Rhaenys. At five-and-ten it was impossible not to notice that she was becoming a woman. An ample bosom, flaring hips, long silky black hair, elegant facial features and stormy violet eyes that constantly drew him in.

He spent many a night cursing himself as his body reacted to thoughts of his sister. His blood sand and burnt for her. He knew that it was tradition in their family for brothers to wed their sisters, yet he had thought it was just something that was done by choice. A way of keeping the bloodlines pure, yet when he had spoken to Visenya in private she had laughed at him and told him it was the dragonsblood. Dragons had always sought to mate with their own, and the stronger the blood, the harsher the drive was, it was apparently a combination of genetics and innate magic. So far he had done nothing to act on his feelings and he just hoped he could keep himself in check.

His musings were thankfully brought short as the door opened and a tall man with thinning blonde hair and close cropped beard stepped in. Dressed richly in reds and gold, he had a sharp nose and striking emerald green eyes that gazed shrewdly at everyone in the room. His face though seemed to be carved from granite, not a single expression escaped and Daeron barely managed to refrain from raising an impressed eyebrow as Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West and mass murderer sat down before him.

The burning rage Daeron felt as he crossed gazes with the older man almost caused him to lose his cool and attack the old lion there and then, but Daeron managed to force it down and offer a wide smile as je almost jumped to his feet and shook hands with the man who had ordered the murder of his brother and stepmother. "Ah Lord Tywin Lannister, an honour, a most high honour", shaking Tywins hands vigorously he let go and sat down again, keeping his laughter from spilling as Tywin looked on him with distaste while his two guards who had hands on their swords looked confused.

"You said my brother found what he sought on his journey", Tywin spoke coldly, and Daron was forced to admit that his personal dislike for the man and his actions, he liked his gruff no nonsense attitude.

"Yes, yes", he said as he nooded eagerly at Tywin. "Your brother's ship smashed on the rocks, we help", he swept his hand, gesturing to the two Summer Islanders he had with him as guards in the room. "Would be rude not to help fellow sailor of the seas no"?

Tywin grimaced, no doubt his act was grating on his nerves, and courtesy demanded that Tywin reward him for bringing back the bones of his brother. "Yes…I must thank you for returning my brother's bones, ask what you want of me and I'll see you rewarded. A Lannister always pays his debts".

"Just so", Daron said as he snapped his fingers, and another one of his men entered the room with a wrapped object. Removing the wrappings, he laid the Valyrian greatsword on the table between Tywin and Daron. A look of greed and astonishment flashed across Tywins face as he drunk in the image of the sword, the hilt a combination of red gold, rich leather, studded with rubies, a roaring lion as the pommel, while the words 'Hear Me Roar' was inscribed with gilded letters along the fuller of the smoky blade.

"Yours for right price yes"? Daron said with a smile and Tywin narrowed his eyes.

"How much"? he asked simply.

"Two million, and you get to take sword with you today", Daeron returned with the same business like tone.

He could see the conflict raging inside of Tywin. Tywin had offered everyone with a Valyrian steel sword in all of Westeros rich rewards in return for their blade, going so far as to offer a million-two to Randyll Tarly. All had refused him, and yet here was a blade, not only for sale exorbitant price or not, but it was the true Lannister blade, having being in the family for centuries before it was lost…he had to take it. "And how would payment be made"? Tywin asked.

Daeron simply produced two rolls of parchment, both detailing the agreed upon price for the blade. "We are in Iron Bank. You sign loan for two million dragons and give to me, you get to go home with blade and pay back two million to the Iron Bank before too much interest builds up. All go home happy yes"?

Tywin carefully inspected the contracts and seals affixed to them. After verifying that the contract was legal and sponsored by the bank he signed the contracts and took the sword reverently.

"As for debt you owe me for the return of your brother's bones. I need steel and lumber. Ships will arrive in Lannisport after four months to pick up yes"?

"Done, I will ensure it is done". Then Tywin Lannister strode swiftly out of the room and disappeared.

As soon as Tywin was gone Daron furiously ripped off the glamour necklace, shrinking a good foot in height, his hair, eyes and skin returning to its proper colouring. Oswell threw back the hood he had used to hide his face with and look at him with concern. "Are you unwell Your Grace"?

Daeron held out his hand, letting Oswell see how it shook in repressed fury. "I just shook the hands of the man who ordered the murder of my brother and stepmother…how do you think I feel", he snarled.

Oswell handed him a bottle which from the smell as he uncorked it contained strong alcohol. "Drink Your Grace".

Still distracted from his fury Daron took a large sip of the flask and was soon on his knees coughing harshly and trying to keep his stomach settled as the strong alcohol burnt in his throat and stomach. The men around, Oswell included the bloody bastard were chuckling at his predicament. "Come Your Grace, I'll escort you to the ship so you can rest, the Iron Bank will assure the gold makes it to the ship I assume", he said as he glanced at the bank representative who had rolled up the signed contracts.

"Just so", he said with a bow before leaving.

Daeron, stumbling slightly from the strong drink allowed himself to be led back to the harbour where twenty of his ships were waiting, with the amount of gold in question they preferred to have it well guarded, and another twenty ships were waiting out at sea. Once he was left in the comforts of his cabin he foolishly decided to imbibe in further drink, this time in the form of a bottle of dornish red, he would regret his decision come morning.

 **000ooo000oo000oo000ooo000ooo000ooo000ooo000ooo000ooo000ooo000ooo000ooo000ooo000ooo000ooo000ooo000ooo000ooo000ooo000ooo000ooo000ooo000**

 **Daeronsport, 9** **th** **month 293 AC**

Daeron, Rhaenys, Benjen, Oswell, Luciferys and Damon Sand were all gathered in his solar. His War Council as well as Small Council it seemed. Benjen was his hand, Oswell Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Luciferys was his Grand Admiral and Master of Ships, while Damon Sand was named Lord General of the Legions. He was in direct command of the Legions, answerable only to Daeron himself. While young he was the one who had proven himself the most knowledgeable of how to use the Legions, and actually be able to keep on top of the massive logistical tasks required to run and command not just one but two of them.

Each Legion was commanded by a Legate. The men divided into ten cohorts of four hundred and eighty men apiece. A cohort consisted of approximately 480 men in six centuries of 80 men, each commanded by a centurion assisted by junior officers. Total command of an individual cohort was swapped back and forth between the various centurions to make sure that everyone got the chance to lead and build experience.

In support each Legion had one hundred and twenty light cavalry armed with longbows, three light javelins and a simple longsword. Their job was to harry enemy flanks with arrows and javelins, while the cavalry smashed an opening in a weakened flank or even through the enemy centre. In support each legion had five hundred men in the rear, in charge of logistics and siege weapons, which at the moment consisted of fifteen catapults and forty ballistae apiece. All in all, each Legion would at full strength consist of 5400 men

Thanks to their carful money spending they had managed to acquire enough men from Pentos who would normally spend their lives in indentured servitude (slavery was illegal). Daeron had offered to buy up their contracts as well as the contracts for their families in return for a decade of service in the Legions, in return those who survived would be given a small pension once they left the Legion for services rendered as well as a small plot of land. The amount of men who had accepted his offer was so great that Daron found himself with nearly three quarters of his available funds gone, but in return he had three Legions at full strength, his navy had swelled to over a hundred and twenty ships, rivalling the royal fleet even. And what had started out as a small military encampment was now a full-fledged city.

The city Centre was now dominated by a large keep of stone with thick walls and strong gates. Legion barracks, armouries, mess halls, training rings and stables had been constructed from wood and stone in symmetrical perfection. The harbour had been expanded, now able to hold five hundred ships at once, and a fully-fledged market town had grown up outside the fort proper. From Volantis had come skilled architects who had worked hard in order to provide the city with proper sewage, and huge public baths were constructed about the city, as men and women came from all over the free cities in search of a better life.

An additional fort had been constructed on a hill a short march from the city, this very much larger fort was constructed much the same as the city fort. A central keep, spiked moat five feet deep and ten feet wide, with proper barracks, armouries, granaries, sewage and the like. Two Legions were stationed in this fort, while one was stationed in the city proper, acting as a city watch as well as an army unit. They had been able to afford this due to the trade that was being brought in, yet he needed to take the Stepstones, and he needed to take them soon. There was no way that the Usurper did not know about them now, and who knew when he would come calling for war. He also needed the Stepstones for financial reasons. While Daeronsport would be able to fend off a rather large army it did not help him put a chokehold on all trade going through there. And due to their position he should be able to protect the Stepstones with at most one Legion and perhaps a fleet of forty ships. At least if he had Dragons, but he needed more men and soon. He knew that Dorne would swear to him once he launched his assault on Westeros, the North would most likely join as well, but he had no guarantees for any of the other Kingdoms. The Stormlands and Westerlands he suspected would fight to the bitter end, and the Reach could quickly become a problem with the enormous amount of men they could call on. And he would need to leave men behind to guard the areas already under his control, so he had come up with a plan that displeased his other advisors to say the very least. Which is why he was sitting here arguing with them.

"Nephew, the Unsullied are slaves. Slavery is illegal in Westeros, Braavos even Pentos says it is illegal. You risk losing your alliances", Benjen was the most adamant of his advisors, the very concept of slavery anathema to him.

"I know nuncle", he said as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yet the Unsullied are said to be the best soldiers there are. My own Legions partially modelled after them, and if we don't get them, what is to stop one of the other Free Cities from buying them to use against us? Braavos and Pentos are our allies, yet the rest of the Free Cities see how much more profit we make each year, and once we take the Stepstone…they will lose so much revenue they will have no choice but to try and attack".

Daeron looked around the table, noting the disgusted looks on everyone's face, but the worst was the look on Rhaenys' face. She looked sad and disappointed at him. "I thank you for your council, but I've made my decision".

He held up his hand to forestall any complaints and studiously ignored looking at Rhaenys, he did not want to see the disappointment on her face. "While I am gone, I want work to be started on paved roads between here, the hillfort and Pentos with mile markers placed. Our shipment of steel and lumber from the Lannisters should arrive soon enough, and we have more coming down from the North with Wyman Manderly's trade fleet. By the time I return I expect our shipwrights to be at work expanding our fleet".

His advisors all nodded as they noted down his orders on rolls of parchment. "Lastly, there has been a truly huge influx of people the last months, see if we can't get the start of another Legion going, standard five year contracts should do. Ten year ones for those wishing to become officers, now leave me".

One after the other his advisors rose and left until he was left alone with Rhaenys. "Why brother? Is a few thousand more men truly worth being called a slaver"? Rhaenys asked softly as she stepped close and stroked his cheek softly.

Daeron closed his eyes, even as he took a deep breath, basking in her sweet fragrance. "Do you trust me sister"? he asked as he forced his impure thoughts out of his head.

"Yes".

He closed the gap between them and hugged her close as he buried is face in her hair. "Then let me do this", he said softly as he let her go.

Rhaenys looked him deeply into his eyes, searching for any hint of deception before giving him a quick smile. "Be careful", she whispered before turning around, leaving him to his thoughts. As night fell, he walked out. Dressed in full armour, his crown upon his head and his sword at his side he let out a sharp whistle. Caraxes landed in the courtyard, glaring balefully at him. Daeron accepted the challenge and stared back, holding the dragon's gaze before his friend and quite frankly wild mount lowered his body so that Daeron could climb onto him. A quick check to see that he was properly fastened to his saddle he yelled out _'fly'_ in High Valyrian and grinned as Caraxes took a running start before jumping into the air.

Caraxes and Melys both had grown rapidly, both of them large enough to fly, Caraxes had grown so big that he could swallow a man whole and Melys was not far behind. Dany's dragon, a well-tempered white dragon whit streaks of pure gold that she had named Rhaelle after her mother was growing quickly as well, hardly large enough to fly yet, but bigger than a pony. For hours he and Caraxes flew through the night towards the east. Time lost its meaning as he and his dragon flew through the air. It took them almost two weeks of travel, stopping only to hunt or sleep. They were perhaps a day away from Astapor, enjoying their rest when a familiar roar shook the hills where they made their rest, and sure enough barely a moment later Melys slammed down beside Caraxes who snarled angrily, picking up on Daeron's own emotions.

"Rhaneys", he called her name as fire coursed through his veins. "What in the Seven Hells are you doing here"?

Rhanys stomped over to him, dressed in her own armour and outfit. She poked him with a steel clad finger on his chest. "Did you really think I would let you do this alone brother"?

He almost lashed out in anger before his male survival instinct kicked in. From the way her chest was heaving up and down, the sweat beaded on her forehead and the fact that Melys was positively steaming showed that she had ridden her dragon hard to catch up with him, and from the way her eyes had narrowed to slits and from the shaking of her hand he knew that his sister was in no mood for him trying to protect her. As he was a young warrior she was a warrior Queen, and she was in no mood to argue.

Admitting defeat, he sat down back on his bedroll and took a swig of his wineskin before offering it to her. Rhaenys rolled out her own bedroll and sat down next to him before taking the offered drink. With two dragons so close there was no need for a fire to keep warm so both he and Rhaenys just lay back and closed their eyes, succumbing to the sweet grasp of nod.

The next morning, they both rose early and broke their fast with a meal of dried meat, some bread and cheese. Eating in silence they packed up and mounted their dragons before taking flight. Rhaenys following close behind him as they followed the coastline towards Astapor. It took a few hours before eventually they spotted the old city, and Daeron smiled as they came closer. The twenty ships loaded with gold that he had sent direct from Braavos were already here, and as they drew close he could see them point up at the rapidly enclosing dragons. Screams of fear sounded as many people started to run wildly back and forth. Caraxes and Melys landed near their ships and both dragons roared triumphantly as the blew large plumes of black flames up into the air. He and Rhaenys dismounted and with a whispered word and gesture sent the two dragons back up into the air before walking over to the Centurion in charge of his men here, the man stood next to four other men in fine clothes, bald heads but extravagant beards on their faces, and with them stood a young woman, perhaps a year or so older than Rhaenys.

"Your Graces", the centurion said as he and the Legionnaires slammed a fist on their chest. "Centurion Garen at your service Your Graces".

Daeron nodded and turned to the Good Masters. "I am Daeron Targaryen, and this is my sister Rhaenys", he forewent their titles this time, wanting to get the business over as quickly as possible, and he tried to keep a smile on his face as the slavegirl translated for the Masters in low valyrian.

The leader of the masters quickly introduced himself in low valyrian, adding in several insults, including calling Rhaenys a whore and himself a sisterfucking bastard. Apparently the people of Astapor knew enough about their family to have heard of some of their traditions.

"My Master Kraznys mo Nakloz bids you welcome to Astapor and offers you a demonstration of the Unsullied", the slave girl dutifully supplied.

Both Daeron and Rhaenys smiled stiffly as they followed the Masters, Daeron stopping only briefly to order the Centurion to bring out all the gold to the plaza where payment was usually completed.

The rest of the day took its toll on both himself and Rhaenys as they learnt more and more about the brutality of what was going on here. He quickly learnt not to ask questions as Kraznys took every opportunity to mutilate the eunuchs to prove how good they were. All their life they had been supplemented with a potion that dulled their nerves to the point that they barely felt any pain, yet as he inspected some of the unsullied with legillimency he realized to his horror that the potion dulled their emotions too. Kraznys was right when he spoke of the Unsullied not being men, most of them had barely any spark of self-identity left. The more he learnt the more furious he became, and from the way Rhaenys was shaking he knew his sister was having it just as bad as he had it. Eventually the tour of horrors ended and the man who had now replaced Tywin Lannister as worst man in the world in Daerons's mind turned to them expectantly.

"How many would you like to buy", the slave girl translated for Kraznys.

"All", Daeron said as he crossed his arms, sporting Rhaenys to look on him in disbelief.

"All"? the girl questioned on behalf of her Masters.

"Yes all. All the Unsullied, as well as the boys in training".

The good Masters started arguing back and forth between themselves, safe in the knowledge that Daeron and Rhaenys could not understand them.

"The Masters cannot sell you the boys, if they were to fall in battle they would shame Astapor", the girl tried to explain.

"Tell your Masters this. I am marching from here all the way to Pentos, sacking cities as I go. Men will die and I need men or boys to pick up the spears and shields of those that fall…my new unsullied will finish the younger ones' training".

This sported another argument between the Masters. "How would you pay"? she asked on their behalf.

Daeron pointed at the two hundred legionnaires who stood by the chests of gold they had carried into the plaza. "I have two million gold dragons".

The eyes of the Masters widened at that number and quickly agreed to the bargain. "One more thing", Daeron said as he held up a hand. "I'll take you as well here and now, sign of a bargain well struck".

The girl explained to her Master who snorted with contempt but nevertheless let the girl join him as they followed the Masters into the plaza. "What in the name of the seven hells do you think you're doing brother"? Rhaenys hissed furiously.

Daeron just smirked at her while whispering, "Trust me".

The next three hours were spent watching as regiment after regiment of unsullied marched in and stood at parade rest in perfect formation. Clad in grey leather armour, spiked helmets, large round shields, a long spear and short sword they made quite a sight. They seemed to be a near perfect blend between the Legions and greek hoplites from his past life. As the back stood the younger ones who had yet to finish their training, some of them young boys who were clutching young puppies to their chests.

"How many are there"? Daeron asked as the last ones had marched into the plaza and some of Kraznys' men had closed the chests of gold and started to carry them away.

The girl, Missandei as he had learnt she was called dutifully translated. "Seven thousand Unsullied and another four thousand in various stages of training".

Daeron nodded and accepted a ninetailed whip from Kraznys and walked over to Rhaenys. After motioning her to grab it they lifted the whip high into the air together to signify that the trade was done. "Is it done? Are they mine now"? Daeron asked Missandei who translated to Kraznys.

'' _Tell the sisterfucker and his whore that he has his army''_ , "You have your army", Missandei simply said.

Daeron leant close to Rhaenys and whispered in her ear, ' _call the dragons'_ , Rhaenys' eyes widened for a moment before a wicked grin spread across her face as she whistled sharply while Daeron stepped up and after a bout of heavy concentration amplified his voice so he could be heard by all.

" _Unsullied"_ , The Unsullied snapped to attention. _"Forward March"_ , they started marching forward until they stopped from another command. "UNSULLIED! KILL THE MASTERS. KILL EVERYONE WEARING A WHIP, KILL THEIR SOLDIERS, STRIKE THE CHAINS FROM EVERY SLAVE BUT HARM NO CHILDREN".

Kraznys' face widened in disbelief once he realized that Daeron could speak Valyrian, yet before he could do anything the Unsullied went on the offensive. Acting as one sellswords, slave owners and masters were stabbed to death by spears guided by lethal precision. Kraznys himself was torn in half by Caraxes and Melys who then with their riders on their backs to the air and started hosing down enemy soldiers in dragonfire. With the dragons he and Rhaenys secured the harbour preventing any of the slavers from escaping. The sacking of Astapor took no more than five hours.

In five hours every slave stood outside the city walls and a large group, while the remaining slave owners who had not been cut down stood in another group. The unsullied themselves were busy ransacking the city, house after house was emptied of food, cloth and valuables and placed on the ships, his small fleet had another forty-three ships, mostly trade cogs added to its numbers, and they would be used as supply ships.

Some unsullied, aided by some of the legionnaires set up a makeshift soup kitchen and fed all the former slaves while their former owners stood there watching as hunger gnawed at them, unable to do anything as a large contingent of unsullied stood guard. The sacking continued all through the night until dawn came. The unsullied had received orders the previous day to be out of the city by then, same with the fleet which stood anchored further out in the bay and the reason for the orders soon became clear. As soon as the rays of the sun hit the city Daeron and Rhaenys took to their dragons and started to bathe the city in dragonfire, while working together to further stir the flames through the use of sorcery. Ignoring the screams of denial from the slave owners Rhaenys and Daeron burnt the once mighty city of Astapor to the ground. So thorough was their burning that for centuries to come it would be known as the eastern Harrenhall. Eventually they landed their dragons and Daeron decided to speak to the slave owners first.

" _Once you took great pleasures in tormenting those beneath you. You bought humans as though they were nothing more than a bolt of cloth in the market. NO MORE! Your city is a smouldering ruin, your possessions burnt or taken. I will let you live only so you may spread the word, Slavers Bay is nearing its end, now you may leave"_ He pointed his hand in a direction away from the city, and as Caraxes let out a large roar and blast of fire they former slavers turned and one after another started walking away, all they had once known was lost.

Daeron turned over to the slaves who were still kneeling and watching him and Rhaenys with awe. _"UNSULLIED! Strike off their chains and collars, they and now you are free to do as you want"_ , Signifying that he was serious he held up the whip and snapped it before throwing it on the fire. _"If you need a purpose, you are free to follow me, or if you desire it you may leave"_.

For a moment there was silence before the Unsullied started to thump their spears on the ground, while the slaves themselves shouted the names of himself and Rhaenys in jubilation. Rhaenys stepped up beside him and he accepted her offered hand as they both took in the sight of the slaves who for the first time in their lives probably had freedom. "What now Dae"? Rhaenys asked softly.

"Now, we march, the fleet will follow along the coastline, that way we have food and provisions close. The youngest and oldest will be given room on the ships, as well as we can fit them. The unsullied themselves will protect the civilians".

Rhaenys nodded thoughtfully as she furrowed her brow slightly. "There won't be enough provisions, the march back to Daeronsport will probably take close to six or seven moons".

"I know", he replied. But both Mereen and Yunkai lies in our path, We'll sack those too and free the slaves while emptying the cities for provisions and valuables…I don't see them trying to resist two dragons and a large army of unsullied. You'll lead the march for now, I will return to Daeronsport and order a large part of the fleet to sail for Bhorash, we can load up the former slaves there at least, if we're lucky we'll have room for the unsullied too". After ensuring that she had everything under control he hugged her goodbye before flying away on Caraxes.

As soon as he returned to Daeronsport he faced troubles however. A pair of assassins had been caught trying to kill Daenerys, the only reason she had not been murdered was that they had questioned her about the whereabouts of himself and Rhaenys when Ser Alliser had discovered them and promptly slain both assassins. That the Usurper knew about him and Rhaenys was inevitable now considering all they had done here, but it galled him that he had been able to send assassins into the fort itself.

The other thing that had happened was that Viserys had tried to take advantage of his and Rhaenys' absence. His foolish uncle had slipped into Dany's rooms during the night, managed to knock out Ser Alliser and abscond with her on a stolen horse. He hadn't gotten far, knocked off his horse when he came to the main gate, but he had killed two legionnaires in his escape attempt, and left Ser Alliser in an unholy rage. Even worse were the documents in his possession. Using the market place he had managed to broker a deal through a Tyroshi Archon to wed Dany to a Dothraki Khal in return for an army, fortunately the meeting was not supposed to take place for a couple of years yet, but now There would be a Dothraki Khal out there gathering a large khalasar in order to impress his future wife…he would have to be dealt with, but first he would deal with his uncle once and for all, he had already sent Caraxes on his way, intending to apparate to him later so he would avoid the flight time.

While giving Caraxes time he busied himself with inspecting the newest Legion. They were training hard, and thanks to strategic reallocation of experienced legionnaires from the other Legions they would be ready quicker as veterans bolstered their ranks and training. The shipwrights were busy at work, finishing a ship every three days now. His rudimentary 'academy' was providing his men and the inhabitants of the city with education enough that more and more learnt how to read or various trades. He had enough miners now that the city was almost completely self-supplying with steel and iron. Sadly no gold or silver veins had been found.

Five days after he had sent of Caraxes he entered Viserys' cell and threw him a warm fur cloak. "Put it on uncle", he snarled.

Viserys fearfully put on the heavy fur and fell to his knees in front of Daeron. "I'm sorry Daeron, I'm sorry…I won't do it again I swear, just don't hurt me-please", Daeron silenced his begging by striking him across his jaw with a gauntleted first, causing Viserys to fall down with a yelp of pain.

"You're leaving uncle, Dany has written a letter of goodbye to you, she doesn't want to see you again", he told Viserys as he placed a sealed letter into Viserys' pocket. Ignoring Viserys' renewed begging, Daeron bound his hands, grabbed him and apparated. The twisting squeezing sensation was something he had long since gotten used to, but Viserys ended up on the snowy ground, retching as his breakfast came up again.

While Viserys was finishing up his retching, Daeron mounted Caraxes who had been waiting for him. Caraxes grabbed Viserys who let out a loud scream and flew upwards into the air. Studiously ignoring his screaming uncle Daeron took in the sights of the North and the ever closing huge wall of ice that his ancestor Brandon had built. The North was wild and rugged but beautiful all the same, and from his high position he could spot Last Hearth as he flew past it into the new gift. Eventually he closed in on Castle Black, and he almost laughed as men threw themselves to the ground in fear as Caraxes soared over the wall to land in the courtyard. Not a word was spoken as he dismounted the black dragon, boys and men, all stood with gaping mouths at the dragon and his Targaryen rider.

Soon enough though they started to react, drawing swords or going for their bows before a hard booming voice cut through the panicked din of the Nights Watchmen. "SHEATHE YOUR BLADES", the voice belonged to an older man, clad in black leather and a black fur coat, and a pommel in the shape of a bear decorated the bastard sword at his side. "Back to work you cunts, that's a dragon there, it would be best not to provoke it". This seemed to get some life back in the men and they quickly moved away from the dragon, trying to appear to be busy while spying on them. The old bear walked down towards Daeron and Viserys who was whimpering as his feet.

"Greetings…might I ask as to what your purpose is here? What a dragon following you"?

"I am Daeron of the House Targaryen, Third of my name and Rightful King of Westeros. I know that the Nights Watch has sworn to take no sides which is why I come to you. My uncle the Prince Viserys", he kicked Viserys trying to get him to stand. "He has tried to usurp me, abduct members of my family, and even sell his own sister to a Dothraki horselord. I can no longer have him with me, yet I cannot kill him lest I be labelled as a kinslayer. The Usurper Robert Baratheon of Storms End wants him dead, only here, as a brother of the Nights Watch will he be safe and of service to the realm".

"Very well. I am Lord Commander Jeor Mormont, and I hereby accept this prisoner into the service of the Nights Watch Your Grace", gesturing for two of the black brothers to come over he told them. "Escort the former Prince to his new bunk and make sure that the stewards find him some proper clothes, he'll need them".

"Lord Commander", Daron said softly. "Is my Grand Uncle Aemon here"?

Jeor Mormont shook his head sadly. "Maester Aemon is abed; he has been ill lately so I let him rest".

Daeron sighed in disappointment. "Then will you give him this? And tell him that I look forward to the day I get to meet him". Commander Mormont nodded and Daeron swung back into his sadly before flying south east on Caraxes, he had a sister to get to and an army to collect.

It took him near three weeks to find Rhaenys and the army of unsullied and freedmen and after explaining what had happened Rhaenys had first cursed loudly, before collapsing into giggles at the thought of VIserys freezing his arse off at the wall. Now with two dragons in the army both Yunkai, and then Mereen surrendered without a fight. At both cities he gave terms, his army would enter and take with them any slave that desired freedom as well as how much they could carry in their arms. In return no one would be hurt.

This worked well in Yunkai, yet in Mereen they were betrayed. As the unsullied and freed slaves were leaving mereenese citizens and sellswords alike attacked them in the streets. It was a bloody affair, the fighting lasted for hours, leaving close to half of the slaves murdered and near fifteen hundred unsullied dead. Daeron would probably had let it go as they still managed to free thousands of slaves, yet when he made his way out to his forces he discovered Rhaenys wounded. Her shoulder and side had been pierced by poisoned arrows and Melys was bleeding from half a dozen wounds. Healers were already working diligently to heal his sister, so Daeron had taken to the air again and Melys had joined him in his rage. All day and night the two dragons flew about Mereen, spewing dragonfire, the screams of thousands pierced the night as flesh cooked and sloughed right of their bones, only when the two dragons were in danger of falling from the sky with exhaustion did he land and go to his sister.

Rhaenys was laid on a bed, pale and shivering and mumbling his name as he gripped her hand, heedless of the tears that fell freely from his eyes. Fortunately he caught his senses and through careful concentration that left him feeling drained he managed to purge the poison from her system before succumbing to exhaustion himself.

 **Next Day. 2** **nd** **month 294 AC**

"Good Morning brother", Rhaenys' voice drew him from his sleep and he grabbed her in a fierce hug.

"I thought I'd lost you", he spoke softly as he maintained his grip on her.

"Oh brother", she said exasperated. "It'll take more than an arrow or two to take me from you", she giggled, and even Daeron let out a chocked laugh.

"What is that smell"? Rhaenys asked as she wrinkled her nose.

Daeron led her out of the tent so she could see for herself. The great city of Mereen was covered in black smoke, screams and fires still raged inside the great city. Large swathes of the walls had distorted and partly melted from the heat and the great pyramids were no more, Daeron and the two dragons had concentrated so much dragonfire on those effigies of slavery that they had literally been melted all the way down to the ground.

"When you were hurt…I thought I'd lose you. I remember anger and fire…this is the result", Daeron said sadly. Who knew how many, built guilty and innocent alike had been burnt to death during the night, the unsullied had taken up position outside the city to prevent people from escaping.

Rhaenys took his hands and kissed them softly. "I would do the same for you brother…now, let's leave this place".

It was with a heavy heart that Daeron led the large army of freedmen and unsullied on the road. Both Caraxes and Melys were exhausted and had to be dragged by large carriages as they rested. For two months they marched slowly along the road to Bhorash, where they waited a further three weeks for the fleet to arrive. Meeting them was Aurane and the Smalljon who shared news.

"The third Legion is combat ready, another fifty ships stand ready and the Dragonguard is coming along nicely", Aurane said.

The Dragonguard was the personal combat unit of the King. Led by the Kingsuard, the Dragonguard, were protected by halfplate and chain painted black. A small red three headed dragon enamelled over their heart, a helmet shaped like a dragon with a long red plumage of horse hair. Armed with a large halberd, a bastard sword, and a buckler fastened to their left forearm. They trained even harder than the legions and were Daeron's shocktroops, never numbering more than four hundred. All of them either knights, the sons of knights or noble lords.

"That is good, how many do you think we can get onto the ships", Daeron asked, speaking of the former slaves and unsullied.

"As long as they don't mind it being a bit tight we can get all the smallfolk and perhaps a thousand of the unsullied", the Smalljon spoke as he looked over the papers detailing the numbers of men women and children.

"Then do it, my brother and I will march the unsullied back to Daeronsport", Rhaenys decided, and Daeron gave her a fond smile. She was truly turning into a fine Queen, and there were none he trusted more.

The embarkation of the former slaves took the better part of three days, but it was a relief to see them go. Aurane had already been instructed to see to it that everyone was given a place to stay and work once they came to Daeronsport, unless they wished to leave for other places.

The march from Bhorash to Daeronsport took almost a year and eight months. Following the road they passed Mantarys, Volantis, Qohor and Norvos until they finally reached Daeronsport. On the way they had been forced to fend off attacks by dothraki on six occasions, and lost precious time as they had to stop in order for several of the wounded to recuperate. Once they came to Daeronsport scouts had already passed the word and as Rhaenys and himself came riding on horses at the front of the column of unsullied they were impressed to see their army paraded outside the city. Three Legions, armour gleamed to a shine, the Dragonguard in their black armour stood silent as statues and the six hundred heavy horse he had, all clad in shining full plate, some of them bearing their personal sigil or the sigil of their house.

Daeron and Rhaenys had rode side by side, still clad in armour and with their crowns on their heads as they inspected each of the Legions, speaking with the officers, offering praise. One after the other the Legions were dismissed, the commander of the unsullied Black Wyrm had been ordered to cooperate with the logistics department for assignment of quarters, shared duties and the like, and he assumed the arranging of wargames to see who were the better ones. He knew both the unsullied and the legions were eager to test the others mettle.

Riding over to where his council stood, Daeron and Rhaenys had barely had the time to hand their horses over to stableboys before they were impacted by an eager blonde haired Daenerys. "I missed you", she said as she hugged Rhaenys and Daeron harder, before squirming her nose. "You two stink", she stated.

Both Rhaenys and Daeron roared with laughter. "Over two years since you last saw me Dany and all you can say is that I smell", Rhaenys gasped as she held a hand to her heart. Of course her wounded act didn't fool anyone, but served to make Dany smile at least.

"We'll take a bath soon enough, but first we must hear what news our council have", Daeron cut in, prompting Dany to pout, before running off with far too much energy.

"I see she has spent a lot of time with my cousins", Rhaenys said dryly.

"That's what I was afraid off", Daeron grumbled. Not that he had anything against the Sand Snakes, they always managed to cheer him up, but at the same time, they had the nasty habit of being horrible flirts…and they passed this knowledge on to both Rhaenys and Dany. Still he pushed those thoughts from his mind as he and Rhaenys took a seat under a pavilion, with their council around them. "So, what can you tell me"? he asked.

Benjen took the word first. "Thanks for the wealth you've brought from Slaver's Bay we are in a better position than before. We've purchased more lumber for ships, hired more miners and farmers to increase production of food and steel. We have three Legions fully armed and ready, with your six thousand combat ready Unsullied and Dragonguard that gives us over twenty-two thousand infantry and near a thousand cavalry".

Luciferys then took over. "The fleet itself cannot get bigger at the moment unless we manage to get more sailors to man the ships. We have a hundred and ten war galleys and another sixty trade cogs for supplies and extra transports. A good fourth of the galleys have catapults and ballistae mounted on them, Your Grace, we rival the Royal Fleet".

"That is very good news, and what of Westeros? Do we have any words from our friends there"?

The Smalljon broke into laughter. "Half the North is up in arms at the sighting of what people swore were a dragon, no one has actually confirmed this though", he grinned at Daeron's surprised look. "Nights Watch business is Nights Watch business. No one at Castle Black are particularly fond of the King and the south considering the reason why most of them are there. Commander Mormont is a good Northman and Maester Aemon is your uncle".

Daeron shared the Smalljon's laughter now.

"The Usurper has discovered your existence, yet not mine", Ser Oswell said. "Apparently he rode North in a fury all the way to Winterfell to yell at Ned Stark for having a traitor brother and dragonspawn nephew".

Daeron swallowed thickly at that, he hoped that he hadn't gotten his Lord uncle in trouble.

"Don't worry", Benjen said as he ruffled Dairon's hair, just grinning at his outraged protests. "Ned managed to calm Robert down. Robert now believes that you had been taken to safety before Ned found your mother in Dorne, I obviously must have met you during my travels and so turned traitor by helping you".

Daeron let out a sigh of relief, even as Ser Oswell continued speaking. "From what Varys has told me, the Usurper spoke with the Small Council and tried to get their support for bringing war on you. All of them supported the notion, at least until the Iron Bank got involved".

Raising his eyebrows in surprise Daeron saw the others at the table grin.

"The Iron Bank courteously informed the King that he over them over one and a half million to the bank alone, with debts scattered elsewhere as well. So if the Iron Throne intended to wage war on a well earning client who paid their loans in time the Bank would recall all loans in Westeros until they were repaid, or they would provide support to someone willing to pay the crown's debts", Luciferys looked positively smug at this admission and Daeron felt a smile stretch wide across his face.

"I assume the Usurper didn't take the news…well".

Oswell laughed. "He damn near removed the small council from their positions, only Tywin Lannister sending a letter managed to stay his rage".

Daeron grinned. "Tywin Lannister sent a letter to stay the Usurper from going to war, why would he do that I wonder".

"He must be in debt to the Iron Bank", Rhaenys said.

Daeron shook his head at first. "Surely not, Casterly Rock is full…with…gold" suddenly a wicked grin stretched across his face. "Tell me, how long has Casterly Rock been producing gold"?

"Since the Age of Heroes", the Smalljon said.

"Exactly", Daeron hissed triumphantly. "Eight thousand years of mining gold. Mines run dry eventually, and Casterly Rock is far from the biggest mountain in the world".

Everyone stared in shock. "You mean to tell me", Benjen said with a shaky voice. "The Lannisters are broke"?

"Hardly", Daeron said. "There are mountains all over the Westerlands, but if Casterly Rock has indeed run dry, they will need time to find new mines and start the mining process. Even with his reputation earned with the Rains of Castamere and the Sack, Tywin knows full well he cannot simply confiscate the mines of his bannermen, they would all revolt and that would be it for the Lannisters".

"Last agenda for today, when do you foresee us ready to take the Stepstones"? Daeron asked.

It was Luciferys who responded. "Your Grace, the season of storms in the area are quickly approaching, making the taking of the Stepstones a foolish venture for the next five months or so. I'd suggest waiting till sometime next year as this year is almost at its end".

"Hmm", Daeron stroked his chin. "Make it two years, that will ensure that Dany's dragon is large enough to ride, and with luck we should be able to train up another Legion by that time, there are a lot of grateful men from Slaver's Bay that we can tempt with the offer of food and steady pay".

With the meeting finished Daeron and Rhaneys went to their quarters, eager for a bath, and as Daeron relaxed in the hot water his mind turned to his future conquest of the Stepstones.

 **00000000000000000000000ooooooooooooooooooooooooo00000000000000000000000000000000ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo000000000000000000000ooooooooooooooooooo00000**

While Daeron was relaxing in his bath Archmaester Marwyn, often called 'The Mage' sweated profusely as the small ship he had hired a cabin on left the Blackwater. He had of course known that the Citadel had no fondness for magic or dragons, but even he had been stunned at how deep the whole conspiracy went. Fearing for his life, he had gathered everything he could, books on magic and dragonlore, books, letters and scraps of parchment that showed just how much bloodshed the Citadel had been involved in, how far they were willing to go to see the world be turned into what they thought to be right. Getting all of it out of Oldtown in secret had been the difficult part, faking his death had been easy in comparison, but even though he was sure that he had succeeded he had still spent the entire trip to Kings Landing in a state of dread, jumping at shadows and every sound. Fortunately he had made it without troubles on the road and he had headed straight for the port and hired the first ship that was sailing to Daeronsport, where hopefully he could inform the Dragon King of the East as they called him of the truth, before he was lured into ruin as the rest of his family had by the machinations of the Citadel and the Hightowers.

 **00000000000000000000000ooooooooooooooooooooooooo00000000000000000000000000000000ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo000000000000000000000ooooooooooooooooooo00000**

Well that's it for today, longest chapter yet. By the time Daeron goes for the Stepstones he'll be roughly 15 (he's almost 13 now) and that should be the time we start seeing some actual romance as well.

As you can see Robert knows about Daeron but is incapable of doing anything. Should he call for war the Iron Bank will demand all debts paid unless they wish for their enemies to receive support. Stannis is also a smart enough commander to know that a fight with Daeron with just the Royal Fleet is too risky, and even then they know that they are facing roughly twenty thousand men. Not something he will advise Robert to do with just the Stormlanders and Crownlanders who are the only ones that are likely to support them…and Stannis is not too sure about those Crownlanders.


	8. Love and War

**Saw that I did some mistakes last chapter, these will be fixed eventually but for now. Daeron's age at the beginning of last chapter was almost 11 not 13.**

 **Ages at the end of last chapter:**

 **Daeron 13**

 **Rhaenys 16**

 **Dany 12.**

 **Sarella Sand 15**

 **Nymeria Sand 21**

 **Tyene Sand 19**

 **Aurane Waters 18**

 **Smalljon Umber 23**

 **Robb 13**

 **Jon 13**

 **Now that I've cleared that up let's continue.**

 **Word of Warning! This chapter contains scenes describing explicit sexual acts that includes incest and people under today's age of consent, you have been warned.**

 **Daeronsport. 5** **th** **month 297 AC**

It had been a busy two years since the burning of slavers bay. They had to settle over fifty thousand new citizens who for the first time in their lives had no idea what to make of themselves as the yoke of slavery had been removed. It had driven Daeron, Rhaenys and the entire logistical department of his city to countless sleepless nights. Deals had to be made to purchase more lands from merchants and Magisters who owned most of the Flatlands around Daeronsport. The road network had to be extended, proper irrigation dug in to ensure the fields didn't dry up. Watchtowers set up as more and more dothraki attempted to take advantage of the relatively new power in the Free Cities.

Many of the slaves had eagerly volunteered for the Legions at least, all their lives spent as manservants, cooks and the like, so steady pay and a way to finally release the pent up rage and pain years of slavery had built up lured thousands in. Others were skilled construction workers who still, even two years later were almost dumbfounded at the idea of being PAID to perform work, paid, and a decent pension in case of permanent handicaps in case of work accidents (provided it was not their own fault).

Skilled men and women alike were recruited together to run a big academy to provide children and adults alike with at least a basic education. Three days a week, before or after work (depending on a person's work shift) every child, and all adults interested were taught how to read and write in common, and low valyrian. Basic arithmetic, history and most importantly propaganda. They were told often and loudly how all of this was due to the influence of the Targaryens, how under the leadership of Daeron a better world could and would be built for their children, and the mostly uneducated people of Essos whom outnumbered the Westerosi by ten to one ate it up.

The academy itself was huge. Built from huge blocks of stone, with expert masons and architects behind the design. Seven floors, with large roomy windows with clear glass panels for optimal lighting, and a large park outside with beautiful gardens, fountains and stone cobbled paths. A smaller building was the place of his 'scientists'. Masters in their fields, architects, smiths, masons, ship builders, mathematicians, former heads of trade guilds and philosophers. All were invited and asked to work together to create new things, to try and kick-start a golden age of enlightenment. He had made the initial contribution by introducing an invention that helped usher in the renascence back on earth.

A very primitive printing press. Basically he had asked the blacksmith to create a large collection of every letter in the alphabet, and once he explained further a steel frame where the letters could be placed and held together. From there it was simple enough to finish it. Ink would be applied to the letters, the frame itself was fastened on a contraption that would raise and lower itself through the aid of a lever onto a sheet of parchment, a short while later you had a printed page. It was still a work in progress of course as you could only print a specific page at a time, but it was a start, and his 'experts' were already bussing with ideas on how to improve it, and his science team had been greatly improved when a former Archmaester arrived, though the news he brought with him were less welcome.

Archmeister Marwyn had brought with him books, scrolls letters, even the citadel's collection of glass candles. What really stirred Daerons rage however was the information in a lot of those books and the like. According to Visenya, near half of the books had been part of her personal collection, so they had obviously been stolen from Dragonstone. Other books were placed as contingencies in case of a large scale disaster should remove the leaders of the Maesters before information could pass on.

This information was the minute details of a major plot between the Citadel and House Hightower that had been at work for centuries before the Doom even. Plan after plan, account after account detailing how the Maesters had and did work towards the total annihilation of magic, dragons, the distribution of knowledge and eventually the ability for men to think for themselves. Even the Faith of the Seven was involved to a certain degree, they were not fully included, but knew enough.

The Dance of Dragons, which almost completely broke the Targaryen's power had been the work of the Citadel and House Hightower, it was almost completely successful as the Targaryen's were left with four dragons at the end, their closest allies weakened as their best and brightest had perished in the war. Shadowbinders from Asshai and strong sorcerers and maegi had been brought onto Dragonstone, into the Red Keep and the Dragonpit in Kings Landing to lay down powerful spells and wards that would ensure that any dragon hatched there or stayed there over an extended period of time would weaken and eventually perish. Their hidden magicians had afterwards been slaughtered to a man to keep it a secret.

The next step that actually did break Targaryen power in Westeros was Roberts Rebellion. The seeds had been laid by the creation of the Stark/Tully/Arryn/Baratheon alliance. It was a Maester that had informed Brandon Stark of how Rhaegar had kidnapped Lyanna Stark. Grand Maester Pycelle had urged the Mad King to open the gates. Letters of correspondence between Pycelle and the Citadel written in code had been deciphered and showed how Pycelle had even ensured that two of Aerys and Rhaella's children had been stillborn, while two others died within a year. Rhaegar himself had been too well guarded to interfere with, and by the time VIserys had been born Pycelle's loyalties had shifted somewhat to House Lannister as well, so that he stopped working towards the complete destruction of the Targaryens. One thing was for sure, Daeron would destroy the Citadel and House Hightower.

A very intrusive scan of Marwyn's mind and intentions proved that the Archmaester was indeed on his side and desired to see magic truly active again. It was this that had made Daeron reveal a large part of his, Rhaenys and Dany's talents. Dany was far from as skilled and powerful as himself and Rhaenys, but the talent was there at least, and once Daeron had showed Marwyn the art of apparition and what he planned to do with it Marwyn had gotten a truly terrifying grin on his face. Every night Daeron, Rhaenys and Marwyn as a side along apparated into the lower cellars of the Citadel to pilfer books. Said books were copied with the printing press and replaced. Confidential letters and the like were copied by hand and replaced. Once they had copied everything the plan was to sneak in wildfire and burn the Citadel to the ground, decisions on whether House Hightower would have the same fate was yet to be determined, fortunately in the form of Visenya they had an invisible spy in House Hightower, her job was to completely map out their seat, in search for hidden rooms and secret meetings.

On another front, the war between Myr, Lys and Tyrosh continued, as Daeron with the help of apparition and sorcery had managed to stage separate assassination attempts on leaders of the three powerful trade cities. The assassins, none who survived had enough 'evidence' on them to make them suspect the other cities so war had broken out again, the armies of the three city states meeting in the disputed lands for large pitched battles to drawn out small raids and ambushes. A war that still went on, draining their resources, concentration the various sellsword companies into the disputed lands, and most importantly kept their eyes away from his fledgling Empire. Thanks to this he had managed to smuggle the first and most experienced Legion down the coast in small boats and canoes. A long trip that took near two months but they arrived undiscovered and struck during the night. Most of the Tyroshi fleet was commandeered, the remaining ships burnt in the harbour. On the way back a single ship filled with Wildfire had been sent into the port of Myr where it detonated with spectacular force. The naval threat of Myr and Tyrosh had thus been removed, and regardless of how the war in the disputed lands went, Lys would not challenge him for the Stepstones alone, the board had been set, and the pieces ready for war.

The first step was to keep the Seven Kingdoms busy. Using Varys' little birds and almost eighty thousand dragons in all he managed to incite small rebellions all over Westeros. Bands of outlaws, bandits and highway-men had over the course of months banded together to various sized 'warbands' that launched raids of villages, merchant convoys and fields all across the Stormlands, Westerlands and Crownlands. Large amounts of good steel had been offered to the mountain clans in the Vale, which prompted them to launch raids all over the Vale. Pirates, corsairs and disgruntled ironborn had started to strike all over the coasts and upriver, scattering the Royal Fleet as it spread out to try and hunt them down. For over three months Westeros was in turmoil as peasant levies and Knights exhausted themselves as they combed the countryside and coasts to stop the raids, and the economy was in turmoil as revenue was lost, debts increased and trade disrupted. The end result was almost a thousand criminals sent to the wall and Robert Baratheon's most ardent supporters were tired and wary of further conflict, and the debts of the Crown increased to almost two million dragons. And now the night before the invasion was to start everyone were in good cheer as the news were shared between the men.

Every inn and tavern was filled to bursting as alcohol flowed freely and a veritable banquet of meats, fruits, rice and potatoes were consumed. Even in the grand hall of the keep the celebration was out of control.

His normally very serious uncle Benjen was laughing and jeering as he consumed cup after cup of wine, an olive skinned Lysene girl seated in his lap. His friend Aurane was hungrily switching between two young maids with strong valyrian features, his tongue eagerly duelling with theirs. Oberyn and his paramour Ellaria held court with two women and another man, all with eager looks on their faces as they shared laughs.

Before he retired to his chambers he was forced to laugh at the sight of the Smalljon rutting frantically with a drunken Nymeria Sand against a wall in the entrance hall, the moans of the fiery dornish girl hinting heavily that the Smalljon was not so small after all. Laughing he stumbled slightly into his chambers, he was more drunk than he'd originally thought, and in his head he cursed the Smalljon who had earlier matched him drink for drink, while the rest of his closest friend had encouraged them. Rhaenys, Tyene and Sarella had been the smarter ones and retired before the feast went completely out of control.

"Tired already Your Grace"?

He spun around in surprise, coming towards him with sultry smiles were Sarella and Tyene, both wearing some VERY sheer nightgowns that did absolutely nothing to hid their voluptuous bodies. Both of them had a tantalising olive skin tone, firm breasts that looked to fit perfectly in a man's palm, tipped with dark inviting nipples. Both had dark stormy eyes, _'their father's eyes'_ , he noted.

Looking between the two he licked his lips slightly. Tyene, normally so sweet and innocent as summer strawberries had an entirely different façade now. Here, in the privacy of his chambers he saw a viper, a hunter of the deadliest sort and as his gaze trace her long legs up to that alluring centre he idly noted that Tyene was indeed a natural blonde.

Sarella on the other hand was as she always was, eager and an inquisitive glint in her eyes, but while her older sister trimmed the hair around her inviting mound Sarella it appeared preferred to be bare as a babe down there, not a single strand of hair could be spotted.

"You look tense brother", Rhaenys' voice broke him out of his reverie as she came up behind him and lightly nipped his ear, from the ever so slight slur in her voice he deduced the three women had continued drinking in privacy.

He turned around and whatever protests he had died before they could even form in his mind. Having just come from a bath her olive skin was wet and glistening. Years of exercise showed their due rewards as not a trace of fat could be seen. He long inviting legs taut and her behind looked tight enough to bounce a coin off of it. The alluring 'V' of her stomach led down to her mound which was trimmed by a short trimmed stripe of dark hair that set his blood on fire. Turning his gaze up again his hands went to her sides, kneading up to her full breasts, two works of perfection ringed with dark pink areola's with stiff nipples that could have cut glass. She moaned wantonly, the sound going straight to his cock which desperately tried to escape his breeches.

She grabbed him harshly by his braid and gazed into his eyes. That piercing violet gaze, so similar to his own burned with lust and broke the last remnants of resistance in him, no doubt helped by the alcohol in his blood.

He growled possessively as one of his hands grasped her flowing black hair in a tight grip and smashed her mouth against his, his other hand greedily grabbed the check of her behind. Both of them moaned lewdly as their tongues started a fierce duel, both trying to dominate the other. A haze fell upon his mind, a haze of lust and burning desire, he barely even noticed as the other two women started kissing and nipping on his neck and ears, continuing their ministrations further down as they tried to remove his garments.

The vest came easily enough, but the shirt they struggled with, the buttons reluctant to yield their price, and he absentmindedly removed his hands from his sister and ripped the shirt, buttons flying everywhere. Rhaenys let go of his mouth and tongue, smirking as he moaned in disappointment. His complaints were quickly silenced however as Tyene forcefully turned his head towards her to claim his mouth in Rhaenys' absence. He let her have her way for a moment, shivering as Rhaenys or Sarelle raked nails down his chest, nearly drawing blood. He stopped his kiss and started to bite Tyene's neck, smiling as he came across a point that made her gasp, while using his hands to slip her dress off her shoulders, making the nearly see through material pool at her feet.

Before he could continue his exploration Sarella took her place, first dancing ferociously with his tongue before biting his lip as she kissed and nipped her way down his chin and neck. He groaned as she bit on the lobe of his ear, the same time as a pair of hands stroked the bulge in his breeches. Another pair of hands furiously tugged at the laces of his breeches, before they were tugged down his legs.

He threw his head back and kept his mouth furiously shut to avoid making a noise as a delicate hand gripped him tightly and stroked his manhood up and down, a lewd wet sucking sound and accompanying moans forced him to look down, the sight almost forcing his release right there. Rhaenys and Tyene were furiously devouring each-others tongues. Tyene had her hand between his sister's legs stroking in circles around her nub while a finger stroked the inside of her sheath. Her other hand massaging and pinching Rhaenys' teats. Rhaenys herself had her left hand fisted in Tyene's flowing blonde locks while her other hand was stroking his cock.

Sarelle suddenly seased his head and pushed it down towards her teats, and Daeron eagerly accepted the gift, licking and biting softly all over them while his hand explored her lower lips. He enjoyed the wanton gasps and moans she made as he explored her folds, stroking that tiny nub before plunging a pair of fingers into her warm and wet centre, curling his fingers inside of her back and forth produced the delightful half screams from her, and a healthy blush had spread across her chest, neck and face, she lasted barely a minute before she came undone, at first she went stiff as a board, before she shrieked in ecstasy, clinging to him hard and then as her release waned she went almost limp in his arms.

Then it was his turn to moan like a wanton whore as his cock was surrounded by something wet and warm and as he looked down he could see Tyene, her lips stretched over his manhood, gazing up at him with sinful eyes that should be illegal. Slowly she bobbed her head back and forth on his cock, her tongue swirling and stroking him. Losing control, he grabbed her head and started to fuck her warm mouth. While a nagging voice at the back of his head tried to tell him that such an action was unseemly, Tyene's moans and encouraging looks silenced that voice quickly. Her only warning was a grunt before his seed burst forth from his cock, his gaze blurred at the wondrous feeling and he threw his head back with a shout of pleasure as Tyene eagerly worked her mouth. Releasing Tyene's head he stumbled back and collapsed onto the bed as he took deep heavy breaths.

Rhaenys smirked at him before seizing Tyene's head in a kiss, and as their tongues duelled he could see both girls swapping his seed back and forth in their mouths, the sight of which hardened him again. Sarella who had lain down beside him giggled slightly as his manhood regained its hardness and pointed upwards. She kissed him again while taking his cock in hand to stroke it sensuously. His view blocked by Sarella's head he felt more than saw Rhaeny's and Tyene join him on the bed.

He broke the kiss and saw both Rhaeny's and TYene had seated themselves against the headboard, legs spread and their cunts glistened with arousal and invited him in. crawling towards them he went for Rhaenys first, slowly kissing and licking his way towards her glistening core, ignoring her repeated pleads for him to hurry up. When he came to the very edges of her outer lips her heady musky smell drew him in as he swirled his tongue over her slit in broad slow strokes.

She tasted absolutely divine, and like a man dying from thirst he eagerly lapped up her juices, tongue teasing her hardened nub before sucking on it. She didn't last long before she came undone, she shook and twisted wildly as he continued to devour her sweet cunt, he threw his arm across her waist to hold her down and keep her steady, as her screams lowered in pitch as Sarella clamped her mouth over Rhaenys.

As Rhaenys' shivering abated slightly she pushed Sarella away and grabbed him roughly by his hair and brought his mouth to hers, eagerly using her tongue to massage his own. He could taste himself on her tongue just as she could taste herself on his, but he was beyond caring right now and he positioned himself between her legs. He wet his cock by stroking it up and down her slit, her juices clinging to it before Rhaenys had enough. She seized him and twisted them around so she was on top. She smirked at him as she slowly placed his cock at her entrance and let go.

Both of them gasped and moaned in pleasure at the feeling of his cock invading her cunt for the first time. There was no maidensblood as her maidenhood had teared years ago due to horse riding. It was still the best feeling he had ever experienced though. Her warm sheath gripped him like a vice, every contour of her hot core massaged his cock in ways he had never imagined. Rhaenys apparently felt the same, every ridge and vein on his cock was felt as it speared through her wet centre, the folds of her flower stretched to either side by his cock was arousing to the extreme. Slowly she rose until just the head of his cock was in her before slamming down again.

His perfect view of his cock spearing her cunt and her delightful breasts juggling up and down was blocked as another cunt, Tyene's this time appeared over his face, and he eagerly dove in, licking and nipping as Rhaenys started to bounce up and down on his hard rod quicker and quicker. He screamed along with Tyene as both found their release, Tyene from his tongue and he from Rhaenys' cunt gripping his cock in a wet heat like a furnace. Burst after burst of his seed painted her inner walls white and Rhaenys cooed as she felt him fill her.

Still hard and eager for more he flipped himself and Rhaenys around, before grabbing Sarella by the neck and almost forcing her face between Rhaenys' legs. "Lick", he commanded her as he raised her up on all fours, and he was greeted by the lovely sight of her shapely backside. Her flower was almost weeping with arousal, and her pink rosebud sent a shiver of desire through him. Positioning himself behind her he slowly sheathed his cock in her warm furnace. If he thought Rhaenys was tight, Sarella was even more so. And he felt as if he had to force his way forward, not that Sarella seemed to mind as she lapped eagerly at Rhaenys' cunt, licking and sucking at his seed that had painted her.

He grabbed her cheeks and kneaded them with strong hands as he started to ram in and out of her dornish cunt. Faster and faster he went, the sound of skin slapping on skin echoing though the room as his hands explored her arse. Sarella had at this point given up on pleasuring Rhaenys and had forced her head down onto the mattress as she spewed forth a string of vulgarities and obscenities, with interspaced "oh, oh, oh gods" and "yes, yes" breaking up her sentences. Eventually they both reached their peak and Daeron just about roared as he filled her womb with seed.

He was starting to tire and lay down on his back beside his sister, who smirked at him before she crawled down and slipped the head of his cock into her mouth. Tyene quickly joined her and together the two women managed to get him to full mast as they licked and sucked, both his cock and each other. Once he was ready Rhaenys crawled back and scooted into his side, her head resting on his chest as Tyene started to ride him quickly, his cock buried in her. As she rode him she bent down to give him soft loving kisses, biting his lip slightly every once in a while, she gyrated her hips upon his manhood while enjoying Rhaenys' fondling of her breasts. The moment almost broke as a soft snore came from Sarella who had cuddled up to Rhaenys, her arm slung over her cousin as she slept, completely exhausted. Tyene and Rhaenys giggled slightly but didn't stop their actions, and both Daeron and Tyene groaned as their release finally came. Tyene gingerly removed herself from his soft and now completely exhausted manhood and mimicked Rhaenys' position on his left side before pulling the covers over them.

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While the four lovers slept, Dany gingerly stepped across the room and opened the door while slipping out. She blushed beet red in embarrassment as she met the gaze of Ser Richard who stood watch outside the room. "Worry not Princess, I won't tell", he said as he looked on her with amusement, his slight smile turning into a full grin as she made a small "Eeep", and ran off. Barely had she made it into her bed before her fingers started to massage her breasts and cunt, stroking, kneading and pinching, she drove herself into a frenzy before biting hard down on the pillow to silence her screams of ecstasy as she reached her peak.

Rhaenys and Visenya had of course spoken to her a few years ago as her body started to develop into womanhood. Had explained the changes that would come, and the facts of life such as sex and how to pleasure oneself. There had been many a night where her hands had explored her young flesh in self pleasure but never had she peaked as she did today.

Their large bath was situated in between her and Rhaenys' room and Daeron's. While she knew Rhaenys and Daeron had shared rooms, even a bed before that had stopped as Rhaenys started to grow more and more into a woman, and Dany had appreciated sharing a room with an 'older sister' despite the fact that she was technically Rhaenys' aunt. Tonight she and Rhaenys had shared a bath, Rhaenys a bit more giggly and relaxed than usual, no doubt due to the alcohol she had consumed. Rhaenys had exited the bath first and curiously walked into Daeron's room. Dany had barely had the time to swing a gown across her as she ran after Rhaenys to stop her from going the wrong way, the sight of a naked Rhaenys hungrily devouring her younger brother, their King along with two of Oberyn's daughters had frozen her in her tracks however.

She had taken a step back only to hit the wall, and sunk down its length in shock at the arousing display in front of her, the four lovers so hungry for each other they didn't even notice Dany who started to take quick shallow breaths as she was filled with arousal at the spectacle. Her hands had held the robe around her form in a tight grip for the entirety of the act, as if to make sure they didn't start to wander. Dany just knew that if she started to pleasure herself she would come undone and she was too frightened and embarrassed about being caught to do anything about it.

But oh how exciting it was to watch. Just the thought of Daeron's thick cock sliding back and forth in her cunt aroused her so much that she was now tempted to pleasure herself again now that she was safely ensconced in her bed, and as she thought of the lewd moans and the 'slickt-slickt' noise that had emerged from where Daeron's cock had invaded each cunt in turn she gave in to her desires. Dany wouldn't get much sleep this night.

Daeron groaned as he woke up, eager to stretch his arms only to blink suddenly as his arms were trapped by something, and as he flecked his hands, he realized he was grasping a breast in each hand, the accompanying moans brought back the events of the night before. A slight blush stretched across his cheeks before a grin replaced it. Last night had been the greatest night in his life, and hopefully would not be a one timer, still his bladder rudely reminded him of the amount of alcohol he had consumed last night so he gently shook his sister and Tyene, hoping to wake them up before he had an accident.

The girls moaned unhappily at being woken up and just latched onto his chest harder, fortunately their shuffling freed his arms at least and he quickly raised them behind his head and looked down at them with a grin on his face as both of them stiffened suddenly. Opening their eyes Rhaenys and Tyene looked straight at each other. Daerpn was disappointed at the lack of a blush on their faces, as both took on sultry grins and turned their heads to look at him.

"Oh stop it brother you look ridiculous", Rhaenys said as she took in his smug look of satisfaction.

While this did nothing but widen his grin he did manage to extract himself from his position in between the two beauties to make for the privy. His rather hasty walk was only interrupted slightly as he turned around to glare at the girls, one of who's hand had delivered a light spank on his behind, he was sadly unable to determine the culprit as both girls smiled impishly at him.

His plans for heading for an early breakfast in order to help coordinate the commencement of their invasion never made it farther than his mind however as all three of them, Sarella having awakened too while he was gone immediately dragged him back to bed, not that he complained much, and if anyone else had an inkling to what had happened between him and the three young women they spoke nothing once he, Rhaenys, Sarella and Tyene appeared in the hall for a meal two hours later, quite sweaty with rumpled clothes and hair in a tangled mess.

As he sat down and loaded his plate with fruits some bread and a slice of ham he along with everyone else roared in approval as the Smalljon and Lady Nym stumbled into the hall…apparently he was not the only one to come across their frenzied act in the hallway last night, and even Oberyn surprisingly enough did nothing but smirk at the very big and heavily blushing northman, Lady Nym just grinned like the cat that got the canary.

"Not a word", Smalljon spoke through gritted teeth as he took a seat not too far from Daeron, and considering how embarrassed the northman seemed Daeron decided that for once he would decide that discretion was indeed the better part of valour.

"Good morning Dany", Rhaenys said suddenly, and several eyebrows raised themselves in unison as Daenerys stopped with a look like a deer stuck in the headlights, a large blush spread across her cheeks before she 'Eeeped' and sprinted out of the hall.

"What in the seven hells was that all about"? Daeron asked Rhaenys curiously.

Rhaenys shrugged her shoulders, before filling up an extra large portion on her plate. "I'll go check on her", she said as she stood up. Heedless about everyone else she grabbed his head and laid a sensuous kiss upon his lips, eagerly accepting his tongue when he offered it, before withdrawing with a smile. Picking up her plate she herself left the hall to hunt down Daenerys.

Most of the men and women in the room stared back and forth between Daeron who happily tore into his food, and Rhaenys' retreating back, and many of them wore knowing looks as they spotted a slight limp in her step. The rest of the meal passed in relative silence, small conversations broke out here and there, but most stayed silent, knowing they had a long trip ahead of them with blood and death waiting for them at the end of the trip.

"Your Grace", Daeron had never heard his uncle speak so formally to him before, and his face was curiously tight. "Would you speak with me in private"? he asked, and Daeron nodded, following Benjen outside into the small garden that stood between the keep and the curtain wall that separated it from the rest of the fort, he had a good idea of what Benjen wished to speak about.

Once Benjen was sure they were out of hearing distance, Ser Oswell staying back enough to give them privacy he and Daeron sat down on a bench. "About…you and Rhaenys".

Daeron stopped him there, "I know what you will say nuncle, I am well aware that she is my sister. I have tried for years to curtail my…thoughts about her, but I can't. Rhaenys and I-we're the Blood of the Dragon…it's in our nature, we cannot fight what we are", Daeron sighed. While he expected his uncle to react like this, it did nothing to keep the hurt away.

Benjen seized him in a tight hug. "I…I know nephew. You and Rhaenys-you're the son and daughter I never had. I will not speak out against you again, but know that I do-I do not support incest, but if you are to continue…you should wed her. I raised you better than to leave your sister with a bastard in her belly".

Daeron's eyes widened, THAT was not something he had thought about, and he was fortunate enough that Benjen was still hugging him that he could not see his reaction. "I will ask her later", he spoke at last and Benjen released him from his hug and gave him a rough nod.

"Good, now don't you have an invasion to plan"? he spoke with a slight bitter tone to his voice.

Benjen had not been pleased once Daeron told him that he would stay behind in Daeronsport to rule in his stead. _''This city will be yours nuncle. You will hereby be Lord Benjen Stark, Lord of Daeronsport. A title that will pass on to your heirs, besides you are the Hand of the King, and therefore you'll rule my Kingdom while I'm off fighting wars''_. It had taken a few hours more of arguing back and forth but Benjen had eventually agreed.

The two newest Legions, the Unsullied, and all his cavalry would stay behind in Daeronsport. Half of his heavy horse, most of them Knights, would leave their horses to fight on foot. The rest of the invasion force consisted of three Legions, all infantry and siege equipment, The Dragonguard, two thousand dornish spears under the command of Oberyn Martell, and a thousand archers from the Summer Isles, with their devastating golden bows.

The Summer Islanders would arrive with their own ships, while the Dornish had already been picked up by a squadron from Daeron's navy. All in all the invasion would see near two hundred warships in action as well as near sixty other ships loaded with supplies following behind. The Stepstones had thirteen islands large enough to have inhabitants. Each one of the islands had a small fort and settlement as well as a harbour, each one defended by pirates, corsairs, or sellswords. His military advisors had already allocated the number of forces that would attack each island, this had been coordinated with the fleet, so every ship knew where to go, and in which order it would go.

While not the same, the fleet and army both had practiced constantly the last six months, to the point where they were certain that the army would be fully deployed on each island within five hours of the first ship landing its troops. Supporting all this would be himself, Rhaenys and Dany from the backs of their dragons. They would also have the task of sinking as many ships as possible before the fleet came there, once they were sure that every island was under attack Daeron would join the Dragonguard in the assault on Bloodstone and the Targaryen constructed castle there.

Bloodstone, and the fortress there that Prince Daemon had constructed, named Dragon's Keep, was probably the last structure that had been built by Valyrian methods, modelled after Dragonstone, it was much the same. Dark smooth stone, High walls, a large central keep with a drum tower rising above the tallest peak of the island. The fortress itself started halfway up the tallest peak of the island, and rose almost two hundred feet above it. Statues of dragons, and other valyrian motifs decorated the fortress. All in all, Bloodstone was the real challenge of the Stepstones, able to house thousands, its thick walls and the sorcery laid down in their foundation making the keep near invulnerable to both bombardment as well as dragonfire. It was for this very reason Daeron had sworn that it would be he who took the first step inside the gates, and he himself would raise the banner of his house from the top of the keep.

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Daeron watched as the fleet left ship after ship sailing away on a three-week journey, himself, Rhaenys and Dany wouldn't take to their dragons for another week at the very least to start daily raids on the pirates residing in the Stepstones.

"They'll be fine", Rhaenys said as she walked up to stand beside him, her fingers entwining with his own.

"I know", he said quietly as he gazed out across the blue sea, enjoying the moment of privacy with his sister under the warm sun and slight wind. "Rhaenys…" he halted as he fought to find the proper words. "About last night…".

As he paused Rhaenys laid a soft hand on his cheek and turned him towards her. He was relieved to see that while she looked as nervous as he felt he could also see the joy in her eyes as she gazed into his own. Love was evident in that violet gaze and no more words needed to be said, as he crossed the gap between their faces and kissed her, far more gently than their heated kisses the previous night, yet far more intimate, as both of them poured out their feelings for each other. Once he broke off the kiss he leant his forehead against hers. "I love you", he whispered.

"I know", she replied with the same low whisper and a slight tremble in her voice.

Daeron smiled as he lifted a hand to stroke her cheek, wiping away a stray tear of happiness that had gathered in the corner of her eye. "Whatever may come, for however long we have on this earth…I am yours, will you be my Queen, my wife and the mother of my children"? he asked her softly.

He could be wrong of course, but judging from the kiss she gave him, draping her arms around his neck he was pretty sure the she accepted his proposal. "I'll take that as a yes", he grinned as she leant away, causing her to snort before slapping his shoulder.

"Silly dragon", she muttered fondly. "Of course it is a yes".

How long they just stood there afterwards, lovingly nibbling on the other's lips he didn't know, it could be minutes or hours, even days for all he knew, elated as he was but he eventually remembered the earlier debacle at breakfast that morn. "Did you speak with Dany"? he asked her, only to raise a questioning eyebrow as Rhaenys burst into a fit of uncontrollable giggles.

It took her several minutes to calm down, wiping away tears from her laughing fit. "You could say that", she told him as her lips tugged upwards of their own accord. "We had an audience last night".

It took him a moment to understand what she meant before he too broke down. "Let me guess, she was horribly embarrassed and is now scarred for life"?

Rhaenys broke out into giggles again before reigning herself in. "Quite the opposite love". He raised an eyebrow at that. "Oh she was embarrassed true enough, but she also spent hours in her room afterwards…enjoying herself".

Daeron coughed at that. After last night he couldn't exactly judge her…proclivities for having lusty thoughts about family, he had after all fucked his own sister both yesterday and this morning. But he had never thought of Dany, his younger by almost a year aunt like that before, yet an unbidden image popped into his head of Daenerys lying on her bed, screaming his and Rhaenys' names as she pleasured herself, and he groaned at the image it produced as he felt himself harden in his breeches.

"Oh you like that thought don't you"? she questioned as a wicked grin spread across her face, and she gently grasped and squeezed his cock through his breeches with her hand. "Oh yes you do", she smirked before claiming his mouth hungrily.

"You-don't-mind", he spoke breathlessly as he fought the urge to take her right there where anyone could see them, a thought that spiked his lust far more than it should.

Rhaenys laughed. "Do not forget my sweet beloved brother…we were not alone last night", she bit down on his lip drawing blood.

He growled hungrily as he forced her onto her belly on the ground, the pain from her bite just added to the fire that ran through her veins. He roughly pulled at her trousers, lowering them down to her knees before freeing his throbbing cock from his own breeches. Rhaenys moaned impatiently as she tried to reposition himself but he growled angrily as he kept her in place. Her beautiful backside presented to him.

Grinning slightly he smacked her left cheek, drawing a surprised yelp from her. "You liked that, didn't you"? he asked with an amused lilt to his tone.

Rhaenys shook her head vigorously, yet he noted that she didn't speak, and as he gave her right cheek a spank too he couldn't help but note the slight moan that accompanied the yelp. Grinning he ran his hand between her legs lovingly caressing her pink flower, she was already wet, and her lustful pants betrayed her. "Do not lie sweet sister", he whispered in her ear as he bit down on her bared shoulder. "You're already wet", he demonstrated by showing her his hands that were glistening with her juices.

"No I'm not", she denied with a whisper.

"You'd like it if we took her to bed wouldn't you sweet sister"? he continued his sensuous whisper in her ear as he continued to nip at the lobe of her ear and the sweet spot on her neck that drove her wild. "You'd love to see her scream my name as I pound her into the bed with my cock, love to feel her slippery tongue devouring your cunt, to see her lips stretched around my cock as she swallows my seed", Rhaenys moaned loudly as the image passed through her head, her entire body felt as if it was on fire from lust.

Daeron held his tongue as his hand went back to caressing her arse, taking note of her slight shiver as he ran a finger lightly over her pink rosebud. Idly remarking to explore that later he placed his throbbing cock against her dripping cunt and pushed in roughly. He grunted while holding a hand across Rhaenys' mouth to stop her scream of pleasure. Rutting frantically in and out of her sweet sheath he growled as an animal while biting down on her shoulder. Driving in and out of her like a piston neither lasted long at the pace he set, especially with their blood up, and his sweet beloved sister shrieked with pleasure as she reached her peak while he flooded her cunt with his seed.

He withdrew from her cunt, causing both of them to moan at the friction and she committed a crime in his eyes as she covered her backside again by drawing up her trousers. Standing up he prepared to put himself back in his breeches when Rhaenys stopped him by grabbing his arms in a tight grip. Giving him a wicked grin she grabbed his softening cock and gave it a light kiss at the helmet shaped head. Daeron grit his teeth as she lovingly lavished his cock with her tongue, cleaning it if his seed and her own juices, putting it in her mouth to suck at it before letting it out to lick all over it again. Working her way down she stroked it with a firm hand while sucking first one then the other of his balls into her mouth.

Groaning at the pleasure his sister's sinful mouth gave him he grabbed her head to steady himself and Rhaenys let a triumphant grin stretch across her face before putting his cock back in her mouth. Bobbing her head back and forth, Daeron almost lost his footing as she suddenly drew in a large breath and swallowed his thick cock all the way to the root, burying her nose into the fine silver hair at the base of his cock. The feel of her throat undulating around his cock was enough to almost make his eyes roll back and he gave a yell of warning, causing Rhaenys to withdraw holding only the head in her mouth she sucked eagerly before swallowing the blast of cum that erupted from his cock. After she milked him of the last drop and licked him clean she grinned before putting him back in his breeches.

As she stood up Daeron let out a hungry growl and seized her mouth with his own, the fact that he could taste himself on her tongue, a tangy salty taste that was not altogether unpleasant matter nothing to him, what mattered was the feel of his sister's tongue wrestling with his own. Eventually they pulled themselves together and walked back to the keep their frantic rut had stirred a hunger in both of them and food sounded like a great idea right now.

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The week passed much quicker than he'd expected, their days occupied by training in the sword ring, flying their dragons, spending time with Dany who unaware that Rhaenys had shared the conversation they'd had with Daeron. Their evenings were spent alone the brother and sister pair lost themselves in the pleasures of the other's body.

Their week of relaxation ended far too quickly however as the time had come for Fire and Blood to be unleashed once more. Daeron and Rhaenys were both dressed in their armour, while Dany herself was dressed similarly enough to Rhaenys, but with less armour. While not comfortable with the idea of Dany only wearing a shirt of mail underneath her battle tunic he did not protest as she explained that armour made her uncomfortable, and while her dragon Rhaelle was smaller than both Meleys and Craxes the she dragon was amazingly fast and manoeuvrable and more than able to not only keep pace with the two larger dragons but also fly rings around them.

At the speed and altitude they flew, the cold air itself no real hindrance to the three whose inner fire kept them warm they reached the Stepstones within three hours. The had long since passed the invasion fleet and the three dragonriders grinned as their dragons dived from the sky. Riders and dragons alike burning with fiery passion as the thirst for blood and destruction raged through them. The dragons roared, the screams of their riders lost as the thundering roars of the mighty beasts of war echoed through the islands, the terrifying sound of imminent death caused a panic amongst the lawless scum that controlled the islands.

Terrifying tales of wanton destruction and death had been told for millennia about dragons and their riders, and as the men of the Stepstones looked up and sat the three beasts dive towards them any sense of order went out the window as every man and woman ran for whatever shelter could be found. Callico Rogare, self proclaimed King of the Stepstones, a fierce slaver and reaver who had robbed and murdered his way across the world for over two score years and ruled the three largest islands in the Stepstones for over a dozen years felt a shiver of fear creep up his spine, and he quickly ordered Dragon Keep to seal its gates.

Hundreds of men screamed and banged uselessly at the gates of the Valyrian keep, but the fiery death they expected never came, and after an hour of desperately trying to gain entrance they realized why. The dragons and their riders were merrily flying about the castles, unleashing the seven hells in the shape of dragonfire on every ship that called the Stepstones its home. Even at the entrance of Dragons Keep over two miles away from the harbour Torturer's Deep the heat from the dragonfire could be felt, and the pirates noted in dismay that after the dragons left there was not a single ship left, even small rowboats and jetties that had been scattered about the islands not far away from the shore had been burnt to ash, hopefully the dragons would not return, most thought to themselves. That night countless arguments that evolved into fights and murders alike erupted on the islands, as whatever leader or leaders there instructed their underlings to start cutting down tree to make new ships.

It was all in vain though as halfway through the next day the dragons returned. This time they worked together, going from island to island they burned down the shanty towns scattered about the islands, doing great care not to harm the harbours and docks themselves, they also too great pleasure in swooping down with blasts of fire upon any hapless man stupid enough not to have made it into a cave or similar. If one was really unlucky he or she would be snapped up by the mighty jaws of the unnatural demons and devoured. Even at Dragons Keep men were unlucky as dragonfire raked the battlements, King Callico himself barely escaping with his life while the rest of his captains were burnt alive as dragonfire spewed through the open archways at the top of the drum tower where the painted table stood. The table itself a copy of its namesake on Dragonstone, this table in the shape of the Stepstones and the surrounding waters.

For a week the dragons raged across the Stepstones, burning hundreds to their deaths, and as if that wasn't bad enough on the eight day an enormous fleet could be spotted on the horizon, the ships carrying the three headed dragon standard of House Targaryen.

With a coordination none of the islands defenders had ever witnessed before the fleet split up, ships docking one after the other in the ports, unloading rank upon rank of heavy infantry that moved forwards with precision that could have been achieved through countless hours of practice. Resistance was slim and none, the disorganised and demoralized outlaws unable to make an effective stand against professional soldiers who for some had practiced their craft every day for as much as five years. With the exception of Bloodstone the islands fell one after the other in the span of six hours after the first boots hit the ground, most of them yielding after watching the braver ones amongst their number try ineffectively to cast the invaders back to the sea.

On Bloodstone King Callico had wisely drawn as many men as possible into his keep. The massive gate doors, a pair of forty feet tall and fifteen feet wide constructs of cold rolled steel fourteen inches thick, imbued with protective spells and runes. A fortune in steel, enough to provide enough swords for a small army if they were melted down, they could withstand hours of being pounded by a battering ram and they were currently guarded by over six hundred vicious men and woman who had raided and murdered their way across the high seas for years, and they were prepared to sell their lives dearly.

Fully half of the First Legion, who proudly called themselves Sons of the Dragons or the Dragon Legion, and its entire siege division had landed on the island alongside half of the dornish forces, Prince Oberyn amongst them. Within hours they had surrounded the great keep and dug concentric siege trenches, that allowed for maximum protection for enemy fire in the form of earthen mounds and mobile palisades, while at the same time bringing their artillery into perfect firing positions.

For hours they bombarded the enemy keep launching rocks, corpses firepots and even pots filled with the contents of the latrine pits over the walls. Soon enough the enemy would be starved out or succumb to the diseases that would tear through them from the combination of human faeces and rotting carcasses of humans as well as animals. Not that Daeron had any plans of maintaining a siege, the bombardment was mostly to demoralize the enemy and keep them busy as he and the Dragonguard took the long way around the keep, carefully navigating the steep jagged mountainside. Of course they had the advantage of Daeron whose apparition allowed him to find the best paths, fixing ropes along the way. Besides his Kingsguard most of his magical abilities were hidden, and even they knew just a small amount of his total combination of skills.

So he 'scouted' ahead, the esteem his men held for him increasing further as all they could see was their King getting down and dirty with the common soldier, and apparently a skilled mountaineer even in full armour. Slowly but surely the five hundred men worked their way across the island until they came to the walls where Daeron had quickly fastened then ropes, allowing his men to climb the walls ten at a time. Almost three quarters had made it over the walls when they were spotted. Screams of alarm quickly sounded across the great fortress, and Daeron led his men into a countercharge before the enemy could fully organise themselves.

The heavy charge of over two hundred men in a combination of plate and chainmail, armed with lethal halberds and hand-and-a-half swords against disorganised murderers was barely a contest. Daeron fell into an easy rhythm, his steel sword swinging, thrusting and blocking with lethal precision, his Kingsguard ever at his side and the Dragonguard at their back they cut down one criminal after the other. For an hour the fight raged across the keep, constantly pressing forward, splitting up in gups of five-and-ten to twenty men they spread across the fortress like a swarm of locusts, never giving the enemy a chance to rally. Thirty minutes in the gates were opened and rank after rank of legionnaires, ten men wide marched through the gates, the thunder of their boots hitting the ground in unison spelt doom and despair for the desperate pirates, until only a dozen or so left made their last stand in the great hall.

They had locked and bolted the heavy steel door that led into it, but watched in disbelief as Daeron for the first time unleashed his sorcery in public view of his men. The steel door was blasted apart in a conflagration of violet flames and the forces of the dragon poured into the great hall. Three men lost their lives to crossbow bolts aimed at Daeron, Ser Richard himself taken out of the fight as a quarrel punched into his gut. King Callico glared contemptuously at Daron who walked calmly forward with his men at his back, stopping halfway into the grand hall.

"So yer the shit 'os been killin' me men and invadin' me keep", he spat angrily.

Daeron laughed mockingly. "I am Daeron of the House Targaryen. This keep was built by my ancestor the Prince Daemon Targaryen. I am merely reclaiming my rightful property".

The pirate King grinned as he stepped forward, drawing a blade almost as dark as night, its hilt and crossguard eerily similar to Dark Sister. "Ye reck'nise this blade here then? I'm gonna use it ter end yer pitiful line from t'face of the earth".

"Blackfyre", Daeron whispered. The blade last wielded by Maelys the Monstrous, the last male of the Blackfyre line who had been founded by one of Aegon IV bastards who had taken the name of the famous blade as their family name. Maelys had been slain on this very island by Ser Barristan the Bold of the Kingsguard, and his grandfather Aerys had raged for weeks after the act as the blade was never found. Readying his blade he motioned for his Kingsguard to step back, something they did under heavy protest, but this fight was his. "Let's finish this then", he said coldly as he stepped forward.

The speed of which the pirate King struck with almost stunned him, but his instincts kicked in. Ducking under a swing he smashed Callico's nose inn with a punch of his mailed fist, spinning back he leant his torso back, barely avoiding a strike that would have opened his throat. Another strike was diverted to the side and Daeron twisted his blade in a sudden move, producing a scream of agony as it punched into Callico's unarmoured knee. Callico's wild thrust was sidestepped and Daeron immediately locked Blackfyre between his arm and side. Before Callico could wrest the blade back Daeron raised his blade up to a level with his head and hacked forward. Even with his closed helmet he could feel blood hit his face as Callico's throat was cut to the neck, a spray of red arterial blood showered him. As Callico collapsed to the ground Daeron drove his blade into his chest and left it there. Removing his dragon helm he handed it over to Oswell and raised Blackfyre into the air, a feeling of pride and accomplishment filled him, as Callico's last followers threw down their blades and surrendered.

"Congratulations Your Grace, the Stepstones are yours", Oswell said, and the men broke into cheers of victory. Over the course of the next hours commanders or their representatives from the other islands made their way over to Bloodstone and Dragon Keep, with their prisoners in tow. The prisoners were quickly put to work, ordered to clean and wash up debris from the bombardment, clearing away dead bodies. Hundreds were put to work constructing makeshift prisons to hold them. Provided with almost three thousand relatively strong men and women the Legions set out to do the thing they did almost as well as war, putting idle men and woman to work with an effectiveness not seen any place else. Under the watchful gaze of the Logistics department of the Legions criminals from all walks of life were put to work, Legionnaires working next to them not only to keep them under guard but also to provide additional manpower, while the fleet already started up a patrol pattern to ensure their dominance of the straits. While all this was put into motion with ruthless efficiency Daeron, Rhaenys, Dany and the rest of his 'High Command' assembled in the great hall.

"MEN, WOMEN…MY FRIENDS", his voice subtly amplified by magic rang through the hall. "WHAT WE HAVE DONE, OTHERS WOULD SNEER AT. IN LESS THAN A DAY WE'VE TAKEN THE STEPSTONES", he let the people cheer for a moment before holding his hand up for silence. "IN RECKOGNITION OF EVERYONE'S PARTICIPATION AND HEROISM I HEREBY DECLARE THAT ALL THE LOOT AND WEALTH ON THE ISLANDS WILL BE GATHERED TOGETHER AND SPLIT EVENLY BETWEEN EVERY MAN WHO HAVE TAKEN PART IN THE ASSAULT". That got the men's attention. The nobles didn't care too much most of them already very wealthy, but for the average soldier, even when divided by the many thousands who had been part of the invasion it was quite probably more than several weeks pay. "NOW", he spoke again as the men stopped their cheers. "I would like for all of us to observe, three minutes of silence for our brothers who paid the ultimate price today".

Nearly eleven hundred men had lost their lives during the fighting, almost a hundred of them amongst Daeron's Dragonguard. Silence reigned supreme. Once the moment of silence had passed Rhaenys stepped forth his crown held in her hand. "Kneel brother", she spoke, her voice carrying through the hall.

Daeron took to a knee and bowed his head slightly, his right hand resting on his knee, while his left rested comfortably on the pommel of Blackfyre at his side.

"Let it be known", Rhaenys spoke as she held the Dragon Crown as the men had started calling it high over her head. "That on this day, I Princess Rhaenys of the House Targaryen, sister of his Grace Daeron of House Targaryen, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm be forever also known as King of the Stepstones, All Hail to the King".

"HAIL"! the voices over every man rung out in a deafening cacophony of noise as Rhaenys placed the crown on his head and took a step back and kneeled next to Dany.

Standing up Daeron stared out at his loyal subjects. "All rise", he spoke clearly. "Aurane Waters, step forth and kneel before me".

Aurane hurried over and knelt before him, bowing his head in supplication as he did. "You have served me well, both as a soldier, and as a friend for many years. Let it hereby be known that your True and Rightful name is Aurane Velaryon of House Velaryon of the Stepstones. In light of your part in the taking of the Grey Gallows, you are hereby ordered to raise a keep there. Furthermore you are to be the Lord Paramount and Guardian of the Stepstones for as long as you live, and your heirs will follow you".

Aurane was stunned, completely forgetting his courtesies at the gift and responsibility offered to him. "I-Thank You, Your Grace. I hope to always live up to the honour you've given me".

Daeron nodded. "Then I bed thee to rise Lord Velaryon, and take your place amongst your peers".

Aurane rose and walked on unsteady feet back to where the rest of the crowd was, hugging his grand uncle tightly.

"I know we are all eager for a grand feast so I will make this short", he paused for the compulsory laughter to end before continuing. "I am hereby announcing that my sister the Princess Rhaenys has agreed to become my Queen, preparations for the wedding will commence soon enough the wedding itself is to be held in three moons". This announcement was met with cheers larger than any other, and the mood went even higher as tables and benches were carried into the grand hall, followed by plate after plate filled with all manners of food and kegs, barrels and bottles of all sorts of drink was passed around.

On all thirteen on the islands in every camp men feasted and toasted to the victorious King, the prisoners sulking and staring long fully at the food and drink from within their makeshift prisons. Taking part in the celebrations at first Daeron and Rhaenys swiftly disappeared from the feast, two dornish girls closely behind them as they came to the King's chambers at the top of the tower. Thankfully untouched by the dragonfire earlier that week the four eager lovers quickly made good use of the bed…

 **Phew, longest chapter yet. Hope you liked it. As for the lemon, do give me your opinions, too much? Good or bad? It is the second time in my life that I've written a sex scene the first one I know I fucked up. Also is it something you'd like to see more of?**

 **As always thanks for all your reviews, you guys are the best**

 **Read and Review**

 **Tellie571**


	9. News in the World

**Kings Landing 297 AC.**

 **Varys:**

Varys was furious. Everything had been going so well for years. His King had proven to be an exceptionally skilled General and politician who seemed to have a gift for the 'Game'. While his sorcery did send chills of disgust and hatred up Varys' spine he was not so jaded that he could not see the benefits.

During the sack the decision had been made to separate the Targaryen babes, yet as he had prepared to send Rhaenys to safety news from his friend Illyrio had put a sword through his plans. The boy Aegon had drowned as his ship went down in the Narrow Sea. He had almost decided to do all he could to ensure that Viserys would take the throne when one of his little birds had reported a badly disguised Oswell Whent riding north with Howland Reed, a woman and a newborn babe. Eddard Stark's letter to the new Baratheon King exclaiming how his sister had perished in Dorne as well as the Kingsguard had given all Varys needed to know. One did not have to be a Maester to conclude that Rhaegar had more than enough time to put a babe in Lyanna Stark's belly, so he had made arrangements to meet Eddard Stark near the RIverlands with Rhaegar's former squire who was watching over Rhaenys.

From then things had gone for the most part well. The loss of Queen Rhaella to childbirth had been a detriment, but the true King and his sister had been safe, guarded by hundreds of fiercely loyal men, and a small fortune, not to mention the large fortune of Illyrio himself.

While he did not trust Illyrio completely he trusted Illyrio's greed, and he knew that Illyrio greatly desired more influence and even holdings in Westeros, so promises had been made. The King had been fed and housed by Illyrio, and that was that, he had counted on Illyrio and the Targaryen loyalists across the sea to handle matters there, as many of his little birds in the east had to be repurposed to provide with counter intelligence in Westeros as well as keep a watchful eye over Viserys and Daenerys, this apparently had been a mistake.

It was a stroke of bad luck that his little birds had disappeared for the most part from Lys, so when the news reached Westeros that Jon Connington had drunk himself to death he had not been able to verify the fact, and now near a decade later a badly wounded Connington had come across one of his little birds in Braavos.

In a feverish haze he had told Varys everything.

One of Illyrio's men had contacted him shortly before his faked death with a young child. A child the man claimed was Prince Aegon. The story and the boy's look had convinced Connington that the boy was indeed the dead Prince and Connington had raised him on Illyrio and (supposedly) Varys' behalf. On Illyrio's instructions Connington had raised the boy in the east, on the fringes of the Ghiscari Empire, and when news reached him of the sack of slavers bay Connington had tried to ascertain the truth.

Countless times since he had argued with Illyrio, after all, Aegon's younger brother was setting himself up as a King on his own rights, unaware that he was usurping his older brother, but Illyrio had been adamant, using the same excuses Varys had given Ned Stark. The boy Daeron was nothing but a distraction so that Aegon would be safe. It was by pure chance one night when Connington and the boy were in Braavos that Connington happened upon a clandestine meeting between Myles Toyne, the leader of the Golden Company and Illyrio himself discussing treason.

The boy whom Connington had raised was not Aegon Targaryen. Oh his name was Aegon no doubts about that, but his true name was Blackfyre, the son of Illyrio and his presumed dead wife Serra, the granddaughter of Maelys Blackfyre. It was the only reason Varys had not been able to suss it out. Maelys' daughter had wed a Volantene merchant of means, and her daughter had taken the merchant's name, while plotting in secret alongside her mother of how to wrest the Iron Throne back, and had brought Illyrio in on the plan. Varys himself had never met the woman, and had no reason to suspect foul play when Illyrio had spoken of her and how she died in childbirth.

Sadly Connington had been discovered before he could hear the full details of the secret Blackfyre plans and had barely escaped with his life. Having already faked his death once Connington had done so again by throwing himself into one of Braavos' many channels and waited for hours as he bled out, three quarrels stuck in his body. He had fortunately persevered and contacted one of his little birds who helped the former Lord of Griffin's Roost and Hand of the King find safe shelter.

Once Varys had learnt the details it was too late. Illyrio and his immense fortune, the accursed Blackfyre boy, the Golden Company, the Windborn and the Second Sons had fled east to Ghiscar where they were rousing the mighty slaver Empire into military action against the Targaryens before the dragons grew too powerful to defeat. Further sleuthing also pointed to Illyrio being the one who had made the marriage pact between Daenerys and the Dothraki Khal Drogo whose khalasar grew larger by the year. With what was quite possibly hundred of thousands in the east and the might of Westeros in the west the Targaryens, despite their recent victory in the Stepstones were in more danger now than they'd been since the Rebellions, something had to be done, at the very least they'd have Jon Connington with them once he recuperated enough to travel.

 **297 AC, Small Council Chambers, Kings Landing.**

 **Jon Arryn**

Jon tiredly stroked a hand across his face as he waited for Robert to join them. Already here was Petyr Baelish, Master of Coin and a good friend of his wife Lysa. Personally Jon didn't care for the man who was in his eyes little more than a whoring fleshpeddler, but he had an amazing gift of producing money, which was needed now more than ever.

The simpering Pycelle. Another man Jon held in contempt. A Lannister lickspittle, he repeatedly broke his wows of chastity while always supporting the Lannisters ever increasing grabs for power, yet despite his pleas to the Citadel he remained as Grand Maester.

Renly Baratheon, Robert's youngest brother idly tapped his fingers on the table as he smiled at his fellow Small Council members. Not that Jon had any particular dislike for Renly he still thought that Renly was a poor choice for Master of Laws. The young Baratheon was more concerned about fine outfits and making japes than furthering his line or taking the duties of his office seriously.

Seated next to Renly was the middle Baratheon brother. Stannis was a hard man, whose dedication to duty and justice made him far more competent, both as Master of Laws and Lord of Storms End, yet Robert seemed to take delight in continually spiting Stannis, first by bypassing the laws of succession by making Renly Lord of Storms End, entrusting Stannis with Dragonstone instead, and making him Master of Ships instead of Master of Laws, and no matter how Jon counselled Robert, the King was adamantly refusing to change his mind on the matter.

Lastly of course was Varys the Spider. Master of Whisperers since Aerys' time he both confused and frightened Jon. The Spider was good, no doubts about that, he had provided impeccable information over the years. He had continually provided the Small Council with accurate information on the Targaryens across the sea, even informing them if the sudden emergence of two of Rhaegar's children, months before such information would normally had reached Westeros. Jon shuddered slightly. Once Robert learnt of Rhaegar's child by Lyanna Stark and the fact that young Benjen Stark was with him he had been inconsolable in rage.

He had ridden hard for Winterfell with a mounted force of five hundred men to demand answers from his best friend and Warden of the North, Jon himself had ridden with the party. Ned's look of genuine shock and sorrow at the information had calmed Robert at the very least so that they could speak. While Ned had indeed received the odd letter over the years from his brother who had fled to Essos in grief over the loss of his father brother and sister he had never hinted in any of his letters to Ned that they had a nephew out there.

Confronted with the irrefutable proof that Lyanna had indeed been forcibly raped by the Silver Prince and left for dead Robert had broken down and spent hours every day for two weeks in the crypts of Winterfell, weeping before Lyanna's tomb.

Shocking revelation aside Ned had been a good host to them, even if Ned and Robert had almost come to blows when Ned coldly informed them that, Targaryen bastard born of rape or not. He would not raise his arms against his own kin, he guaranteed Robert that he would never support a Rebellion against him, and would raise his banners to protect Westeros from an invading army he would not actively seek to kill his brother and nephew, and after he calmed down Robert agreed to the terms, but the air between the two friends was noticeably colder when the King and the Hand left Winterfell.

Bad news from the east kept coming. Whoever advised the Targaryens were smart. Before the boy was discovered he had managed to send Benjen Stark over the sea to gather near ten thousand men for what Benjen called a sellsword company, he had somehow managed to make a trade in ill faith with Stannis who provided Benjen with enough ships to take the army across the sea.

Had they taken action there and then perhaps they could have ended the last dragons while they were still young and vulnerable, but thanks to Renly any possible action was smothered in it's infancy. Rightly believing that a war across the sea would cost money, Renly had taken it upon himself to write to the Iron Bank to secure funds. The reply the Bank had sent to Westeros had Robert banish Renly back to Storm's End for three moons with a broken jaw and black eye.

The dragons had apparently been wise enough to foster good relations with the bank. Good enough that the profit the bank stood to gain were larger than the one and a half million owed by the Iron Throne. The message had even been kind enough to advise the Crown that if they went to war before the debt was repaid they would not only demand the instant repayment in full of every loan to every family in Westeros, but also actively provide the Crown's enemies with all the gold they needed to topple the Baratheon Dynasty, and only the hasty and surprising intervention of Tywin Lannister managed to stay Robert's hand, a move that still befuddled Jon.

So war had been averted and the dragons continued to live in peace. Rumours of a new city and the impressive army of the Targaryens were confirmed by several sources, first by the Spider and later by others. The Spider himself had informed them that the Targaryens, now joined by Viserys and Daenerys even had living dragons. THAT piece of information was scoffed at by all. The Small Council, the Faith, and after hearing from the Citadel that there was no way they could have hatched dragons Jon too agreed that the rumours of living fire breathing dragons were false. Even as news reached them of the sack of Slaver's Bay did no one believe in the existence of dragons. Rumours and purported dragon spotting sprung up all over Westeros, by the Seven there were even rumours that a dragon had visited Castle Black at the wall even. No the dragons were dead, and considering that the Citadel and every other Maester he had spoken with gave their assurances that dragons were and would forever be a thing of the past his mind was soothed.

Still, the Targaryens were growing in power. They had at their disposal a truly formidable fleet, and from all reports their rapidly expanding army was a work of art, inspired by the Ghiscari legions of old as well as the Unsullied yet their hands were well and truly tied. Despite his and Petyr's best effort the debt to the Iron Bank continued to grow, and no matter how much he pleaded and implored Robert to reign in his excessive lavish lifestyle his former ward, the man he considered as a son blankly refused to do so.

Things worsened further as it appeared that every low born scum and bandit in Westeros decided to band together and launch raids all across Westeros. Fields and small villages were burnt to the ground. Merchants and Lords alike robbed and sometimes even taken hostage on the roads, demanding exorbitant ransoms for their safe return. For months large parts of Westeros was embroiled in a state of almost civil war as levies and companies of Knights scoured the countryside to beat down the criminals. Most of them were killed or sent to the wall, yet the immense amount of spoils they had gathered was for the most part gone. Either eaten or drunk in the case of food and drink, or sold, spent on whore and the like. Even his beloved Vale had been attacked by groups of mountain men numbering from a few dozen to several hundred had poured out from their hills and mountains, armed and armoured with castle forged steel.

After months of struggle Westeros breathed out a sigh of relief, only to despair as their entire coastline suddenly seemed embroiled in war. Anything from a single ship to small fleets of perhaps as many as twenty ships raided all over the coasts and sometimes even upriver, as a result Robert had made Stannis despatch the Royal Fleet all over their coast to hunt the blasted pirate scum down. Only a month or so after the Royal Fleet left, scattering all over Westeros ill tidings reached them. Tidings that he would now share with Robert, Varys himself told him the news just earlier this day.

"Alright Jon, tell me why the hell you forced me to come to this meeting", Robert slurred as he staggered over to the table to take his seat, Ser Barristan following him as a silent shadow.

"News Your Grace", Jon said quietly as he handed out sheets of parchment to the other members of the Small Council. Stannis read in silence, his only reaction was a grimace and gritting of his teeth. Pycelle whimpered, while Baelish and Renly looked concerned, Robert however was furious and grabbed a shocked Varys by the front of the eunuch's fine myrish silks.

"Is this true? Have those FUCKING dragonspawn invaded the Stepstones?" Robert roared.

"YOUR GRACE"! Jon's sharp tone pierced through Robert's hazy alcohol soaked mind, and Robert sat back his face betraying his fury. "Right now", Jon continued. "We are incapable of doing anything, the last months have taken its toll". "We've lost men and more wealth and food than I dare contemplate to bandits to the point where I've had to go to Mace Tyrell, beggars cup in hand to give us enough food. The Nobles and smallfolk alike are tired of war, and the Royal Fleet is powerless, scattered as it is all across Westeros…Assuming it can navigate through the Stepstones now without conflict it will take us months to gather it…". He was interrupted however as a man with clad in the armour of the dragon legions was admitted, a sealed scroll in his hands.

"I come bearing a message from the King of the Stepstones". His accent proved the man to be a foreigner, a former slave from Slaver's Bay perhaps, and his slightly darken complexion clearly proved that he was not Westerosi.

Robert snatched the scroll out of the messenger's hand and read it quickly, his face growing redder by the second. "SISTERFUCKING INCEST RIDDEN SHITS", even those amongst them who were prepared for the outburst jumped slightly as Robert unleashed his rage. "YOU TELL THAT DEGENERATE SISTERFUCKER YOU SO PROUDLY SERVE THAT I'LL SEE HIM DEAD JUST AS HIS RAPIST FATHER", The messenger's face tightened before he gave a short bow and walked out. Curiously Jon took the message and read what had made Robert so angry.

' _To the Usurper Robert Baratheon. My name is Daeron of the House Targaryen. The last living trueborn son of Prince Rhaegar from his second wife Lyanna Stark. I send this message both as a declaration of intent, and as an offer of peace._

 _In a single day I took the Stepstones through Fire and Blood. The passageway out of the Narrow Sea is now mine and no ship will pass without paying the toll, including the ships of your Royal Fleet. Sooner rather than later I will take my army and land in Westeros to retake my birthright, and I can assure you I have supporters more than willing to swear fealty._

 _It is a war that you cannot win, not with your fleet scattered and deep in debt, so therefore I will offer the mercy neither you nor your goodfather Lord Tywin ever offered my family._

 _You, your brothers, wife and children, as well as the family of your goodfather the Lannisters will bend the knee and surrender yourself to my judgement, with the understanding that I will judge you individually and fairly. The false Knights Gregor Clegane and Amory Lorch will be given to me alive and unspoiled to do with as I see fit._

 _Accept these unconditional terms and there will be peace, if not I and my sister-wife the Queen Rhaenys will come, and we will come with Fire and Blood._

 _Signed._

 _Daeron of the House Targaryen, Third of His Name, Rightful King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Real and King of the Stepstones and the Narrow Sea'._

This was worrying. As long as it stayed with the Small Council it should be no issue, but who knew what would happen if this information truly spread out amongst the nobility, many whom felt slighter both at the Lannister dominance in the capital or still kept grudges for the more brutish acts during the Rebellion. Jon didn't doubt for a second that there were a huge amount of houses still loyal to the dragons, and the smallfolk for the most part still loved and spoke fondly of the Silver Prince and his young children. If they were to learn that not only was Rhaenys still alive, but that a son of Rhaegar still lived as well things could turn out to be disastrous.

One after the other the members of the Small Council read the letter, while Robert had apparently lost any semblance of control and was now draining pitcher after pitcher of wine in a drunken rage. "SER BARRISTAN", he yelled, wine and spittle rained over Barristan's white plate from Robert's mouth.

"I want them DEAD! I don't care how you do it Barristan, bring me their heads", there was a wield look in Robert's eyes, and Jon almost gasped, hair and eyecolour aside he had reminded Jon of the Mad King so much there that Jon almost felt fear and rage flow through him.

"Yo-your Grace", Barristan protested and to the shock of the Small Council Robert flung out a meaty fist that impacted on Barristan's chin and sent the aging Knight crashing to the ground.

"GO", Robert yelled as he threw an empty wine pitcher after Barristan who had quickly stood and stormed out of the room.

Silence reigned as the only sound was Barristan's retreating steps and Robert's heavy breathing, none dared to speak first, at least until Stannis gathered himself.

"That was foolish Robert", he spoke.

Jon himself was forced to agree with Stannis, treating Ser Barristan such was a foolish move indeed, yet as Robert raved and ranted at Stannis the next hour for questioning his elder and more importantly Kingly brother when it came to matters regarding Targaryens, Jon resolved to keep silent on his agreement with Stannis.

 **Dragon Keep, Bloodstone, four months later.**

 **Ser Barristan:**

Ser Barristan took in the sights of the Targaryen fortress with mixed feelings. He still had nightmares sometimes about the battles he had fought here and the men whom had perished on his blade, Maelys the Monstrous, last of the Blackfyres amongst them, but at the same time he was also amazed.

Never again had he thought to see Targaryen banners fluttering proudly in the wind, and he had almost collapsed in shock as the ship he was on came close to the island, for flying through the sky were three living breathing dragons. On the island itself he had been questioned as to who he was and what his purpose was. Handing over a letter from Benjen Stark had seen him gifted with a horse and an escort of four mounted legionnaires, clad in red cloaks and detailed breastplates sculpted like a muscular torso that shined bright as gold.

They had ridden directly for the keep as his head turned this way and that. The island was a beehive of activity, legionnaires worked side by side with sullen men and women in prisoner's grabs. Constructing paved roads, erecting buildings of all sorts, even the port itself was under massive construction to expand it.

It had been a long two months for Barristan. Ever since the Trident he had been gnawed by guilt as he had bent the knee to Robert Baratheon. When he learnt of the gruesome actions of the sack Kings Landing he had almost mounted a horse to ride out and remove the heads of Robert and Tywin, yet he had held true to his vow to the new King. For years he had served as Lord Commander of his Kingsguard, even as he despaired at the ever increasing corruption of everything around him. The Kingslayer Jaime Lannister who profaned his blade on the unarmed man he had sworn to defend was allowed to continue as Kingsguard. One after the other the members of the Kingsguard were filled with incompetent fools who were given a place in the sacred brotherhood as political favours from the Lannister Queen. As Lannister dominance grew in the court so did the rot and corruption in Kings Landing increase, and as he heard more and more rumours of the King across the sea his desire to leave increased.

And then the drunken whoremonger had commanded him to bring him the heads of the young King and his sister. Barristan knew that Robert Baratheon hated the Targaryens, yet he had never thought he would sink so low as to send his Lord Commander out to kill the last members of a family Barristan had served almost his entire life, the young Targaryen's barely out of childhood even. The unworthy King striking him for his hesitance was the last straw. Barristan had gone to his chambers, stripped of his armour and white cloak, taken whatever coin he possessed and left Kings Landing behind.

He booked a ship to Pentos, and then down to the new city, Daeronsport it was called and presented himself to the soldiers who escorted him to Benjen Stark who by the grace of his nephew had been granted Lordship over the city. Despite his many years of loyal service to the Targaryen family over the course of his life Benjen Stark had questioned him thoroughly to make sure he was not there on Baratheon's orders, and thankfully believed him.

He had given him a sealed letter that he would present to the legionnaires on the Stepstones who would give him an escort to the King. He had then taken a ship to the Stepstones.

Once they reached the courtyard of the castle he and his escort dismounted, a stableboy came running to take his horse from him as he was escorted into the central keep. The keep and great hall was a monument to the Targaryens, huge banners, gargoyles and paintings dedicated to the Dragonlords could be found everywhere and then as he came close to the throne he felt his breath leave him as he fell to his knees.

The King was a vision of the past. The striking similarity he held to Aegon the Conqueror was breathtaking. Barristan had seen portraits of the first Targaryen King often enough to see that the young man was the conqueror and his son Maegor reborn. Silvery white hair in a thick braid, his form large and powerful for his age. A stern face with delicate valyrian features and a close cropped beard added maturity to him, and piercing violet eyes held him in his place and a foreboding crown of blackened steel and dragon teeth sat upon his head, while his clothes were fine but simple in red and black.

The woman at his side could be no other than his sister-wife. The queen herself had Princess Elia's colouring with her olive skin and black hair, but her stern visage and features reminded Barristan of Queen Visenya more than any other. Though she was stern the Queen was positively growing, and he noted with slight shock that her right hand was held protectively across a slightly bulging stomach. Guarding the King were ghost from the past. Ser Richard Lonmouth, Rhaegar's former squire, and most surprisingly an older but still very recognisable Oswell Whent.

"Ser Barristan Selmy", the King spoke softly, but his severe tone carried through the hall. "What is your purpose in my keep"?

Barristan bowed his head. "Your Grace, years ago I served your father, and his father and father's father before him as Kingsguard. I swore to protect them and to my shame I failed them. I swore fealty to Robert Baratheon, but no longer". He swallowed nervously. "When I questioned the Robert's decision to send me to collect your head and the head of your sister he struck me. No longer will I serve that murderer, give me a place in your Kingsguard and I swear, I will not fail your family again", the Kings face was carved out of stone, completely unreadable, while the Queen's face was smiling slightly at him.

"Ser Oswell"? the King questioned as he looked over at the last remaining true member of Aerys' Kingsguard.

"You cannot serve the King dressed thusly Ser Barristan", he gave a slight grin at his former brother in arms. "Follow Ser Richard to the blacksmith to be fitted, your cloak will be waiting for you here".

Barristan sighed in relief. "Thank you your grace". Barristan said as he rose to his feet and followed Ser Richard towards the entrance.

As they walked he passed to his shock Oberyn Martell of Dorne who had a positively murderous look on his face, following the Prince were a pair of young women, one black and one blonde of hair, both of them with a slightly swollen stomach and nervous looks on his face. Ser Richard snorted loudly as he spotted the two women, and before Barristan could ask the King exclaimed quite loudly "Oh Fuck". Understanding filled Ser Barristan and he joined Ser Richard in laughter as they closed the door behind them, silencing the angry roars of the Prince of Dorne, truly the King should have chosen more carefully who he took to his bed…

 **Next chapter will see something of the same time period from Daeron's POV, as well as continuing further into the story. Hope you enjoyed the chapter.**

 **Cheers**

 **Tellie571**


	10. Surprises in many shapes

**Ages of some of our characters at the start of this chapter (and at the end of chapter 8 and 9)**

 **Daron, Jon and Robb 15 years old**

 **Rhaenys 18 years**

 **Tyene 21 years old**

 **Sarella 17 years**

 **Dany 14**

 **Joffrey and Sansa 11 years old**

 **Arya 8 years old.**

 **Dragon Keep, Kingdom of the Stepstones and the Narrow Sea.**

 **297 AC**

Daeron yawned as he stretched out in bed, life was good…for the most part. It had been near three moons since he had taken the Stepstones and started the tedious process of fortifying the island chain. He rather missed Daeronsport, yet he knew that even with their fortifications barely started the islands, Bloodstone and the mighty Dragon Keep in particular was far more defensible, and his uncle Benjen was more than capable of overseeing the running of Daeronsport.

The fleet was working diligently going back and forth between the mainland and the various isles, bringing labour and resources. The islands themselves were for the most part far too barren to produce food. They had other uses however. The islands were rich in iron, copper, zinc and most importantly natural deposits of coke which if he remembered lessons from his past life would aid greatly for producing better steel.

He, along with a few blacksmiths were already trying to replicate Valyrian Steel since they had three dragons at their disposal, yet were unable to crack the secrets so far, hopefully a Qohorian smith that Daeron had sent a message to would agree to the terms and enter into his service and mayhap crack the secret of Valyrian Steel. Still, due to closed furnaces with a rich combination of coal and coke as fuel his blacksmiths were consistently turning out steel that was immensely superior to anything else with the exception of Valyrian Steel, and once they started to find the best combination they aptly named the new steel Legion Steel, making Daeron once again curse the Legions for their sheer inability to be creative in naming things.

Mining operations were set up on the islands, while the Legions aided by the prisoners worked diligently to turn the Stepstones into a powerhouse. Due to the large cabal of 'scientists' he had gathered, as well as some of the old scrolls and books from Gerion's ship, and his own vague memories helped with a hefty amount of imagination they were able to crate massive cranes both landbased and seaworthy ones on giant barges. Improved scaffolding, Daeron even helped design a 'proper' metric stick that would become the standard for all future measuring.

He doubted it was a true metre, as he was forced to go by guessing, by the metre stick was divided into a hundred equal parts, and considering how inaccurate measurements had been up to now, with people not even agreeing on a correct fathom he decided it would be better like this. Explaining the metric system and how it worked both up and down, was simple enough, and once Daeron wrote down what he remembered of his old math classes, his 'scientists' almost went ballistic. While his knowledge of sines and cosines was atrocious at best, he knew more than enough formulas, like geometry, the laws of speed and gravity or Pythagoras. There were enough formulas that a proper breakthrough in the field of mathematics could happen, and it would also help with construction as all construction foremen had to not only know their letters, but have a decent understanding of mathematics and with new formulas, and people far more capable of explaining them and teaching it to others far better than he meant that construction would be better than ever…having lost valyrian arts written or drawn down probably helped too he supposed.

Said Valyrian secrets were proving most useful as his architects demonstrated what they had planned. A truly massive construction project that would link the islands of the Stepstones together by giant bridges of stone, and even a central port side in the middle of the island chain, almost like oilrigs only on a much larger scale. An entire port built on enormous 'stilts' of stone, and while he had his doubts about the feasibility of such a thing they assured him they could do so. All the islands also had a keep under construction. For now, it was just in a beginning stage, protected by a palisade wall as men worked to finish the stone walls, gatehouse and watchtowers that would surround the keep itself.

Coastal defences were also constructed as his more military minded scientists and inventors sat down with him to share ideas. The idea of massive fixed defensive positions reminiscent of 'gun-nests' with enormous ballistae and catapults that operated on a rail and gear system raised a lot of eyebrows and protests first, but as Daeron drew out 'rough' sketches and explained some of the theory behind it all they started to work on the project. The concept of gears was not entirely unfamiliar for many of them and the inclusion of a railsystem was easy enough, even the draw mechanism on the ballistae were easy enough to attain, it was simply to take a crossbow loading mechanism and enlarge it.

While some worked on that, others started with the help of the fleet to 'map' out the seas around the islands and mark fixed spots so that the artillery divisions would have a starting point to aim for. All in all, there were overlapping fields of fire all around the isles, and the first prototype ballistae proved powerful enough to launch a 'bolt' accurately at a target over a kilometre away, said target, an old repatriated ship sunk in minutes from the catastrophic damage. It was a shame that he could not bring them on campaigns as they were far too heavy. Each ballistae requiring a crew of twelve to operate it, even on rails as it were it required six men just to move it back and forth. It was static artillery, but more lethal than any other advancement made in siege weaponry for centuries, an argument could be made for wildfire but it was far too unstable.

Concerning wildfire, he was certain the alchemists of Kings Landing as well as elsewhere in Essos knew far more than just the creation of wildfire, and he hoped to recruit several to his cause and hopefully manage to recreate primitive blackpowder. Fireworks already existed in the east, and he knew that once on Earth, fireworks had been the template for blackpowder which lead eventually to the invention of proper military gunpowder.

On more 'civilian' pursuits, he had sent several groups of 'spies' to Lys, in the hope of abducting one or several of their famous glassworkers, as he knew the lysine currently had a monopoly of glassworking. If he could break that monopoly he could make a fortune by selling glassware at lower prices.

Breaking out of his thoughts he turned over on his side to land a soft kiss on Rhaenys' neck, smiling slightly as she whimpered and tried to twist out of his embrace. Rhaenys unlike himself was not fond of waking early and could easily sleep well past noon unless someone woke her. For the first moon after the conquest this had not been too much of a problem since Tyene and Sarella had shared their bed more often than not, and both girls gladly took on the responsibility of waking his sister, sparing him from her wrath. Sadly both girls had followed Oberyn and the rest of the dornishmen back to Dorne. Not that he did not enjoy having his sister all to himself every night, but having either Tyene, Sarella or both in bed at the same time just added to the…experience, and while he was far from being in love with the two girls he was very fond of them and the sex was great.

"Wake up sweet sister", he whispered in her ear as he carefully nibbled and sucked on the sweet spot on her neck.

She grumbled a bit more before finally admitting defeat. Turning around she grabbed his head to bring it down for a kiss, and Daeron eagerly accepted her tongue as he spread her legs only to sigh in disappointment as Rhaenys suddenly lurched away from him and sprinted over to a potted plant in the corner of the room to violently disperse of the contents of her stomach.

Hiding his disappointment at the interrupted moment Daeron joined her, holding her hair away from her face while stroking her back. "This has gone on long enough Rhae, you'll be getting back to bed and I'll fetch a healer to examine what is wrong with you".

Rhaenys protested a bit at first but allowed herself to be led back to the bed and laid down amongst the pillows and blankets, closing her eyes as she tried to fight the nausea. After making sure she was not going anywhere Daeron poked his head out of the door to see who was standing guard.

"Ser Jaremy, fetch a healer for Rhaenys".

The Kingsguard Knight nodded sympathetically. "Still not well then Your Grace"?

Daeron nodded sadly. "It's gone on for more than a week now, so time to figure out just what ails my sister".

After watching the Knight run off Daeron returned to the bed, dressing up in a simple pair of silk trousers he laid down beside Rhaenys to stroke her back and hair while murmuring soft words of comfort to her

The healer returned quickly enough. A legionnaire who had spent his life as a slave and physician before attaining his freedom, he was one of Daeron's more trusted legionnaires. A capable fighter and skilled physician who was given breaks in his duties to widen his knowledge of the healing arts every three months. He was fiercely loyal and grateful after Daeron awarded him and his family with freedom, and his pay was good enough to let his family live in relative comfort.

"Your Grace", he said as he slammed his fist against his chest.

"Salkahadhar, it is good you are here. My sister is not well".

The healer swiftly walked over to where Rhaenys laid on the bed, poking and prodding her while asking inane questions. It didn't take long however before his eyes widened slightly and a small smile stretched across his face as he carefully felt Rhaenys stomach, which had started to gain a small amount of weight lately…not that Daeron cared about that of course, his sister was still beautiful.

"When was the last time you bled Your Grace"? he asked.

"It has been-oh…OH!" Rhaenys' eyes widened suddenly as she looked down to where the healer was holding her stomach.

"I think from that reaction I can softly say that Your Grace is with child", he smiled at both of them and Daeron suddenly felt faint.

As long as he could remember, both as Harry Potter and as Daeron Targaryen his greatest desire was to have a family of his own, a wife and children. "I think…I think I would prefer to have some time alone with my wife for now please", he said to the healer, who bowed deeply.

"Of course Your Grace, I shall ensure regular visits from now to make sure everything goes as it should, and perhaps hunt down a few good midwives for when the time comes".

Daeron barely registered the words, just waving the man away as he laid a trembling hand on Rhaenys' stomach, feeling the slight bulge there as he turned his gaze upon her face. Her eyes were wide and glistening, with an undercurrent of apprehension and happiness. " _A child_ ", he whispered.

Rhaenys swallowed as she nodded slightly. "Are you-are you happy brother"?

Daeron didn't bother with a verbal reply at first, instead he leant in and laid a soft kiss on her lips, gently he teased her lips apart with his tongue before withdrawing to lean his forehead against hers. " _I love you Rhae…this…nothing could make me happier_ ". Wiping away her tears he leant down to kiss her belly before resting his head on top of her.

Rhaenys for her part beamed at him while softly running her hands across his head, teasing the tresses of his hear through her fingers. "I love you too Dae, can we…can we stay here today? Just us"? she asked.

Daeron shuffled his position so that he laid on his side and allowed Rhaenys to take up a similar position. He lost track of time how long they just lay there together as all manner of emotions coursed through them. Both of them for the most part just gazing happily into the other's eyes, their fingers entwined on her belly, imagining the life that was growing there.

"Would you care for a son or a daughter my love"? Rhaenys asked at one point.

"It matters little Rhae", he smiled at her. "I would love him or her the same regardless of the gender, besides", he leant in closer so that he could taste those wonderful lips again. "We will undoubtedly have more in time".

Rhaenys snorted slightly at that as she let her free hand slip down to grasp him through his trousers. "Most likely considering how often you like to use this", she grinned impishly as she tightened her grip slightly, coaxing forth a moan from him.

"Wench", he grumbled as he carefully turned her over to her other side to reveal that lovely backside, neither of them got much rest from that point.

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The next day was a day of rejoice across the islands as the news of Rhaenys' pregnancy spread. Cohorts from the First Legion even formed up in perfect ranks outside the keep while shouting hurrahs for their King and soon to be Queen.

Rhaenys pregnancy did however speed up their wedding plans, which under the watchful eyes of Dany and Rhaenys were coming to a close. It was difficult to say who was more exited at the news, Himself, Rhaenys or Dany.

Dany had woken both of them early that day by bursting through the door to grab both of them in a hug, her machine gun speech leaving both of them dazed and confused…at least until they tried to get up, the blanket pooling off and revealing their naked forms. Dany had at first blushed red as a tomato before an impish grin spread across her face as she gave first him and then a surprised Rhaenys a quick kiss before rapidly disappearing from their rooms, shouting for servants to prepare a great breakfast, leaving Daeron and Rhaenys to stare at each other in confusion as the question _'What in the seven hells just happened_ ', running through their minds.

While glaring at the door that stood wide open…or more specifically at the chuckling Ser Richard who guarded it Rhaenys and Daeron had dressed before heading for the hall to break their fast. Their wedding itself stood two weeks later in the small sept that had been built on the island. A Septon from Pentos arrived to officiate.

The sept was filled to bursting as various Lords, Officers and rich supporters had all made their way to the wedding. Daeron himself was dressed in fine clothes of black, red and gold, made from myrish silks and fine leather. Blackfyre at his side and his crown on his head. As Oberyn himself and the rest of Rhaenys' family were unable to make it to the wedding it was his uncle Benjen who walked Rhaenys down the aisle to give her away.

Rhaenys herself was a vision of beauty. Her hair was pinned up or braided in several places while other parts fell down in beautiful ringlets. Kohl had been carefully applied to give more depth to her eyes, while a faint hit of blush had been added to her cheeks and her full lips had been painted an alluring dark red colour. Her outfit was much like his own, black, reds and gold. Predominantly red as was custom for Targaryen wedding dresses. The dress was strapless, and showed perhaps just a bit more cleavage than one would consider proper for such an occasion, but judging from the faces of the rest of the audience no one were willing to mention that little fact.

Never one for large amounts of jewellery, she wore her silver and ruby crown, a simple gold dragon necklace and a small silver bracelet. Her smile however was what stunned him most. She smiled broadly, her happiness at this particular moment filling him with warmth, and she positively glowed from her pregnancy. After what seemed to be an age Benjen led her up to stand beside him and removed her black maidencloak with the three headed dragon on it.

"We are gathered here in the light of the seven to watch these two join in blessed the union of marriage. Who comes before the Gods"? The Septon's voice was strong and carried throughout the sept.

"The Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, a maiden flowered and pure", Benjen spoke, studiously ignoring Dany's snort and muttered ' _pure my arse_ '.

While not the wisest choice of words Rhaenys and Daeron could forgive Benjen for it. After all he had not only been raised in the fashion of the Old Gods, but was also uncomfortable at the idea of a brother wedding his sister.

"And who claims her"? the Septon asked as the small outbreak of laughter at Dany's words died down, mostly in part to Daeron's stern glance, Rhaenys herself too busy staring daggers at Dany who tried and failed miserably to look as innocent as a cherub.

"I, Daeron of the House Targaryen", he smiled at Rhaenys as he took her hands in his own.

"You may cloak the bride under your protection", the Septon said. Daeron turned and accepted the same cloak his father had cloaked his mother in and fastened it across Rhaenys' shoulders before taking her hands in his own again.

The Septon bound a red band of silk around their hands. "Then in the light of the Seven I pronounce you man and wife. Look to each other and speak the words".

Both Rhaenys and Daeron spoke together as they gazed in eachothers eyes. "Father. Mother. Warrior. Maiden. Smith. Crone. Stranger".

"I am hers and she is mine, from this day until the end of my days".

"I am his and he is mine, from this day until the end of my days".

As soon as they finished their wows the spectators in the hall applauded as Daeron and Rhaenys walked out, everyone else following behind them. The outside was packed. Legionnaires, men at arms, the Dragonguard, sailors and smallfolk alike had turned up. The entirety of the First Legion, their armour polished to a shine stood on both sides of the road on parade rest, their swords drawn and held high in the air, forming a corridor of men from the sept all the way up to the keep, and dragon banners waved in the wind everywhere you turned your eye to, while above all three dragons flew and roared in jubilation, sensing the mood of their riders to a degree.

Riding next to each other on a pair of black chargers Daeron and Rhaenys led the procession up to the keep and accepter their place at the head of the table as the guests came by one after the other to present gifts.

They received a multitude of gifts, fancy horses, hawks, intricate glassware, enough clothes to last them for a year without wearing the same outfit twice. Fine lysine carpets, gold, jewels, paintings, books and furniture. The feast itself lasted for hours with thirty three different courses, and even with his very generous portions, barely more than a few bites of each course Daeron had to give up after the twenty first course. While tired and full he danced for hours with various women, Rhaenys herself begging off after a few dances due to her condition, something Dany capitalized on as she greedily demanded his attention for half of the dances. The feast ended, for Daeron and Rhaenys at least with Rhaenys' being crowned as Queen.

The Smalljon so drunk that he stumbled about like a crazed ox tried to call for a bedding, but perhaps to the disappointment of many Daeron put his foot down there. He was after all, a greedy man, and no one not sharing their bed would be allowed to have his or her paws all over his sister wife, so he and Rhaenys left alone back up to their chambers, leaving Lord Commander Oswell as their guard, the newly married couple eagerly disrobed before finding their way to the marriage bed.

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Tyene took a small amount of comfort as her cousin Arianne Martell softly stroked both her back and Sarella's as they both regurgitated their latest meal. For weeks now Tyene and her sister had found the need to relieve the contents of their stomachs, their breasts felt unusually sensitive and both girls felt as if they had a big uncomfortable not where their stomach used to be, and both knew why. At first they hadn't noticed that their moon blood didn't come, but when they missed it for the second and third time they were certain, and a visit to the Maester confirmed that they were both with child.

At first both she and Sarella had felt frightened, but quickly realised that while childbirth itself was dangerous for both mother and babe, they should be ready for it. Their 'mama' Ellaria had borne them four sisters, and their aunt Mellario who had left Dorne to return to Norvos, what she feared most was telling her father. By all accounts their father Oberyn shouldn't be in a position to judge, he after all having eight children to five different women, and possibly more that he didn't know about, but as he had always said ' _you are my little girls, and I'll kill anyone who dares hurt you unless you kill them first yourself_ ', he had always given a wide grin after those words.

"I still don't understand why you just didn't take moon tea dear cousins", Arianne laughed as Tyene and Sarella tried to wash their mouths with water to get rid of the taste.

"And I've told you", Sarella spoke with a sharp edge to her tone. "That thoughts of moon tea and the like doesn't really cross your mind when you've been fucked several times for near a month by a pair of randy dragons". Sarella and Tyene grinned as Arianne got a slightly envious look on her face.

"That good in bed are they"? she really was jealous. She had never met either of the dragons, one whom was her cousin, but from Tyene and Sarella's tales she was very tempted for a night with the two of them, the King at the very least.

"The King is a quick learner, both with his tongue and his…spear", Tyene grinned as she waggled her eyebrows. "And his sister learnt rather quickly too, and both of them are quite…vigorous".

"Oh shut up", Arianna said glumly. "It would be enough to say that they fucked you senseless, all this innuendo just makes it worse".

Sarella smirked. "I know", and for a moment Arianne was tempted to remove that smug grin with a slap to the face.

"Ah well, at least I'm not the one who has to carry a reminder of the King's skill in the bedchamber for another six moons in my belly", Arianne scored a point of victory to herself as the two sisters suddenly paled.

"Let me guess", she asked with a grin. "You still haven't informed your father".

Both girls shook their heads glumly, knowing that it was only a question of time. Their father had left for somewhere or another as soon as they landed in Dorne while Tyene, Sarella and Nymeria had journeyed back to the Water Gardens, where they'd been ambushed by their other sisters and their cousins.

Arianne, their eldest sister Obara and Nymeria had been the first ones who were told, all of them laughing and consequently making japes whenever they saw them after that. Obara of course had marched them straight up to their Uncle Doran who, while he seemed pleased enough did chastise them somewhat and informed them that they would have to inform Oberyn when he came back.

Moon tea had of course been discussed, but by the time they realized what was going on they were too far along for them to feel safe or comfortable in doing so. Really, taking moon tea after the first month was risky enough according to the Maester, doing so after two or worse three months could leave them with serious side effects or even injury.

"Heads up cousins, uncle Oberyn just arrived", Arianne said with a grin before running off to Oberyn to give him a hug.

"Tyene and Sarella need to speak with you", she told him before running around a corner to listen in, grinnings as apparently the rest of the sand snakes had the same idea.

Oberyn himself was very happy. He had met with all of his girls, had shared a very pleasant hour with Ellaria and another whore in their rooms, and now he was to meet his last two daughters. His smile however vanished as soon as he laid eyes on his two girls who were shuffling nervously on their feet while unconsciously cupping slightly swelling bellies. Said swell was very familiar to Oberyn who had seen such many times before.

"I believe you two have something to explain", he said sharply to his two girls who winced slightly.

The seriousness of the situation was somewhat ruined however as Ellaria took one look at the girls and erupted into a fit of uncontrollable laughter, forcing Oberyn to give his paramour a glare…that did nothing more than to increase her laughter even more.

Tyene, always the braver…and far more incorrigible of the two put on her best innocent look, something that would have fooled anyone, himself included if he hadn't raised her. Her cherubic smile and wide innocent eyes and blonde hair tied into a conservative braid easily showed just why Tyene could impersonate a Septa far better than even an actual Septa could.

"Well you see papa, you are going to be a grandfather", she said while giving him a shaking smile, still as innocent as a white lily or summer strawberries, not that he was fooled though.

"And, how did this come about exactly"?

This time it was Sarella who stepped forth, and completely ignored the warning head shake Tyene gave her. "Well you see papa, when a man and a woman…" this was as far as she got before Ellaria collapsed to the ground, and from the howls of laughter somewhere behind him, the rest of his daughters, niece and nephews were listening in to every word.

"I…ah. I assume the King is the father"? Oberyn poised softly.

Both Tyene and Sarella nodded, both of them slightly nervous now as his glare and cold tone seemed to be going nowhere. He let them suffer under his gimlet eyes for a few moments more before joining his lover and daughters in laughter, thoroughly enjoying the brief looks of shock that crossed Tyene and Sarella's face.

"What, did you think I would be angry"? he asked after wiping the tears from his eyes, and his two daughters nodded mutely, sporting another bout of laughter from Oberyn.

"You are both old enough to sleep with any man or woman-", he grinned slightly at them when he said this. "-of your choosing, as well as accepting the consequences of that", he pulled both of his daughters into a hug, stroking them across the belly slightly to feel the small bump that was his future grandchildren.

"An while I'm not entirely pleased at becoming a grandfather so young-", he studiously ignored Ellaria's snort. "-I am _very_ pleased at this opportunity to scare the shit out of the King". The identical shark like grins that spread across his daughter's faces as they realized his plan brought a tear to his eye, he was sure of it.

Ellaria herself looked quite pleased at the thought of watching Oberyn play the angry father next time they met the King.

"What will you do with the children"? she asked.

Tyene and Sarella shrugged slightly. "It depends on the King, we will raise them, it will however be his decision on how much he will be involved in their lives".

Oberyn snorted slightly. "I never thought I'd say anything good about someone with Stark blood, but the King is a good man, and I have no doubts he will be as involved as he can in the lives of his children, bastards or not".

And that was that. The situation was dealt with, and with a much better result than Tyene and Sarella had in mind, and dinner that evening was a joyous affair, their sisters, cousins as well as parents and uncle alike all feeding ideas to Oberyn.

The weeks following up to their departure to the Stepstones led to a ton of japes towards the two sand snakes. Apparently Rhaenys was in the same boat as them, and she had also married her brother in that time. The journey itself was bloody torture, their already sensitive stomachs protested wildly at the tossing and turning on the ship and the girls almost wept as they finally landed on Bloodstone.

Riding up to the keep was a novel experience as their heads twisted this way and that. While construction was already well on the way when they left near three moons ago, the progress that had occurred since then was mind blowing. Had they not seen it first hand before as the Legions went about on their projects they would scarcely have believed it. Truly the logistical prowess of the Legions was one of the wonders of the world.

Leaving their horses in the courtyard, Tyene and Sarella affected apologetic and nervous faces, while Oberyn picked up his spear and affected a look of insensate rage. Walking briskly forward while Tyene and Sarella shuffled after him he kicked open the door to the hall, leaving a stunned Legionnaire outside he stormed into the throne room so quickly that he barely noticed as Ser Richard and Ser Barristan of all people passed him.

Ser Richard himself chuckled once he spotted Tyene and Sarella. The King and Queen both looked happy, the King himself running a hand lovingly over his sister's stomach. As Rhaenys' eyes widened however he turned his gaze and spotted Oberyn's daughters. "Oh Fuck!" he said loudly as he took in their obvious pregnant forms, sporting Barristan to suddenly join in Richard's laughter as the two Kingsguard closed the door behind them.

"YOU LITTLE WHORING SHIT", Oberyn yelled as he stomped towards the King. "GET THAT OUT OF MY FACE THORNE", he snarled as Alliser Thorne approached with his sword drawn, and he gave Ser Alliser a quick wink that the King failed to pick up on.

"Sorry Your Grace", Ser Alliser said as he stepped back, the only sign of his amusement was a slight tugging at the corner of his lips.

"WOULD YOU CARE TO EXPLAIN, _YOUR GRACE_ , HOW WHEN I RETURNED HOME FROM MY TRIP I FIND TWO OF MY LITTLE GIRLS WITH A BELLYFULL OF BASTARD"?

Oberyn almost broke a tear of pride as both Tyene and Sarelly broke into fake, but altogether convincing heartbroken sobs.

"I-I-you see-that is-umm-what I meant was". The King's face was pale as he found himself face to face with Oberyn who carried a very deadly looking spear in his hands, and whose face was twisted in rage.

" _You BETTER do right by them Your Grace"_ , he hissed as he gestured to his two girls who were still hulking and shaking, though he assumed the shaking was more a result of trying to keep from laughing, and even Rhaenys was having problems keeping a serious look on her face, he lips tugging ever upwards every few seconds.

"But-but I", Daron stuttered before he spotted Ser Alliser and Ser Osswell who were both shaking as they tried to keep serious. "Oh you _bastards_ ", he hissed as he realized he was being played. "You all knew didn't you"? he questioned with a most affronted look on his face.

That seemed to be the straw that broke the camel's back as it were. Everyone started laughing as Daeron grumbled. Rhaenys managed to compose herself mostly to giggles. Dany herself had no such qualms and let loose peals of laughter as the Smalljon pounded a meaty fist on the table, his own laughter booming forth in a deep tone.

"You're supposed to take my side", he grumbled surly at Rhaenys who merely gave him a peck on his lips.

"Sorry brother, this was too good to resist", she consoled him as Oberyn merely grinned smugly at him.

"Fine-fine", Daeron sighed as he waved Tyene and Sarella towards him. "I assume the future babes are mine"? he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes Your Grace", the spoke in unison as they fluttered their lashes and acted like swooning maidens.

"Very well…what do you want to do with them"? he asked the girls as he invited them along with Rhaenys, Dany and Oberyn to follow him to somewhere more private.

"We'll raise them ourselves, and we'll name them", Tyene said, and from the stubborn set of her jaw he was sure that this was a battle not worth fighting.

"Understood, you will I hope, let me see them"?

Both girls nodded and he let out a sigh of relief before glancing nervously at both his wife and Oberyn. "I won't legitimize them", fortunately none seemed to take affront to that. "I will recognise them as mine, if they're boys I'll arrange for a proper Knighthood, and hopefully a small keep or the like for them. Should they be girls I'll do my best to help them find a proper match".

Oberyn grinned while Tyene and Sarella's eyes widened, his eyes almost speaking ' _I told you so_ '.

"Thank you Your Grace", Sarella said.

Both Daeron and Rhaenys laughed. "When we are in private like this cousin you may call us by our names you know", she told Sarella and Tyene who smiled in return.

"Well, not that that is sorted, why don't you girls catch up. Prince Oberyn, if you would follow me, there are news from Kings Landing", and with that the girls went one way while Oberyn and Daeron walked upward to his war room, where Lucerys, the Smalljon, Ser Osswell and Aurane waited.

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 **Kings Landing. Small Council Chamber.**

Robert Baratheon sat at the head of the Small Council table. At his side sat Jon Arryn, and in a line down came Stannis, Renly, Varys, Baelysh and Pycelle, the surprise guest however was Tywin Lannister who was seated next to Pycelle, and Ser Jaime Lannister who had been named as the new Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.

"Your Grace", Jon Arryn started. "Why did you call the Council together at this time? We were not scheduled to meet until the morrow".

Robert almost spat on the floor as he handed a small note over to Jon Arryn who read it, and immediately widened his eyes, before passing the note along to the rest of the Council.

"The whore is pregnant", he spat, "And worse is that fucking traitor Barristan joined up with them".

"Pardon me Your Grace, but why did Ser Barristan leave the Kingsguard"? Tywin was honestly curious, having just arrived in the city he had not received any information from Pycelle as of yet.

"His Grace ordered Ser Barristan to bring him the heads of the Targaryens, when Barristan questioned the order His Grace struck him and commanded him to leave his presence", Varys' simpering voice explained.

Tywin looked as if he wished to say a great many things but held his tongue for the most part, a simple 'I see' was all he said.

"I won't have that dragonspawn sisterfucker and his whoring sister spawn more of those dragonspawn bastards. I want them DEAD!" Robert's face was red with fury and the silver goblet in his hand squeaked as it deformed in his grip.

"And how would you like for this to happen Robert"? Stannis asked surly, which he had more than enough reason to be. After all, near half of the Royal Fleet never made it back past the Stepstones, the only good thing about those ships sinking was that they were crewed mostly by Velaryon or Celtigar men, the thought of the Targaryens sinking ships and killing men who were once loyal to them was a small consolation for the loss of over sixty ships.

"You will take the fleet and crush them Stannis. I don't care how you do it, but I want them DEAD, preferably _BEFORE_ they can land an army in Westeros", Robert was almost foaming at the mouth, how dare is boorish failure of a younger brother question him.

"You've failed me for the last time Stannis! NO JON-" he shouted away Jon's protests, not even noticing as the eyes of the two Lannisters as well as Pycelle's took on a glint of glee and amusement. "-I ordered you to take Dragonstone and bring me the Targaryen babes fourteen years ago. You FAILED-" he pounded his fist on the table.

"AND THEN…And then you have the gall to supply those incest ridden shits with two score of warships, HOW Fucking STUPID can you get Stannis"? Robert took a deep calming breath, supplemented by wine before turning his glare back to Stannis who was shaking in fury.

"This time, you have the choice, bring me their heads, and the heads of the future babe too if it is born in time. If you return without them I'll have Ned escort you to the fucking wall".

The Small Council gaped in astonishment at Robert basically ordering his own brother to the death out of sheer spite. No one spoke a word as Stannis rose and stomped out of the room.

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 **Stannis:**

Stannis fumed as he strode to his rooms in the Red Keep to pack. His life was over, all because of Robert's irrational hatred for the Targaryens. All his life Stannis had done his duty, his very being was based on the concepts of duty and justice and now his worthless brother who wasted his time running the Seven Kingdoms to the ground had just signed his death warrant more than likely. The Royal Fleet, some ninety ships under his command, as well as the Houses sworn to Dragonstone were chanceless against the Targaryens of the Narrow Sea. Attacking them mean his death, refusing meant the wall. Either way his life was over, and he would be lucky if he ever saw his daughter, wife or young son again.

He sighed slightly as he sat down on his bed. After Selyse' death and Shireen's miraculous treatment he had married again, under Robert's orders mind you to a beautiful young woman of House Celtigar. He hadn't been pleased to marry a Targaryen loyalist, but his wife was a pleasant surprise. Very comely with Valyrian features, strong, a bit stubborn she was not afraid to speak her mind to Stannis, but fortunately knew her place when in public. With her the marriage bed was visited quite often, more for pleasure rather than just duty, and three years ago she had gifted him with a son. A strong boy with the black hair and blue eyes so common in his line, not like Robert's blonde haired spawn, and she had recently sent him a letter informing him of the fact that she was with child again.

He stroked a tired hand across his face, how would he explain to his wife and to Shireen that they would never see him again. How would his mother explain to their young boy Orys that their father was dead because their uncle the King didn't like him. His gloomy thoughts ended as Varys stepped into the room…from behind a painting of all things.

Jumping to his feet Stannis drew his sword and pointed it at Varys, " . .Varys"? he bit out through gritted teeth.

"Most uncomely of the King to order what amounts to the certain death of his own brother over an ancient hatred".

Stannis narrowed his eyes at the eunuch.

"I must ask you Lord Stannis, what would you do to avoid this fate? To yet again be with your wife and children, to have the chance of holding the child growing within your wife"?

That Varys knew of his wife being with child did not surprise Stannis, his other words however.

"What you speak of sounds suspiciously like treason Varys".

Varys tittered. "Treason is it? You have always done your duty, yet the King slights you at every turn, takes from you what is yours by all the laws of the realm, and now orders your death without cause while he continues to let the Realm fall into the abyss…so tell me to whom is your duty? Your brother the King, or the Realm and your family"?

Varys made good points this Stannis knew, and his description of Robert was down to a tee. "You make it sound as having loyalty to my family means having loyalty to the Realm, how so"?

"Almost correct", Varys said. "If you serve the Realm, you will save your family. Serve the one who is by all the laws of the realm its true King, and I can guarantee that your family will be safe, and that your birth right will be restored to you".

Now that was interesting, and almost amusing to Stannis. "You speak of the Targaryen do you not Varys"? at Varys' nod Stannis let out a short humourless laugh. "And you expect me to believe that the Targaryen King, whose father my own brother killed on the Trident, whose brother was murdered in this very castle will welcome me with open arms"?

"Oh hardly", Varys laughed. "He will question you of course, he will demand an oath of fealty, but the King is also wise and generous. He will not judge you on anything but your own actions, and considering that he healed your daughter I'd say he is more than likely to show leniency".

Varys laughed as Stannis felt his breath leave him. It was obvious now in hindsight, even years after the young boy's features were burnt into his mind and it was obvious now that the boy had been Rhaegar Targaryen's son. "What must I do"? he asked Varys-

"Take your ship, your family, and anyone else whose loyalty you are absolutely sure of and sail to the Stepstones flying white colours. Once a ship pulls up beside you speak the truth of whom you are, and that you are there to swear fealty to the true King, and you'll be escorted to him".

Stannis nodded gratefully before leaving his rooms with his few possessions, and as he walked towards the Fury he wondered idly of whether his parents would be proud or disappointed at his decision, one thing was sure at least. Robert was dead to him.

 **Couple of things. I've been told off more than once about how I keep misspelling words such as 'nuncle' instead of uncle. Nuncle is a word used quite often by GRRM in the books, and was also used a lot in older times as it is basically an 'older' form of the word uncle, so nuncle=uncle. Same meaning slightly different spelling.**

 **Next point, some mentioned moon tea. From what I've read in the books moon tea is used much less than you'd think, this is because it is not a preventative but 'technically' forces an abortion, a process that can result in a person becoming barren or causing other damage. I cannot for the life of me imagine it being healthy to force your body to cleanse out everything in there every time you've had sex or missed your period, so moon tea=bad for you in the long run, and carries risks even if only used once.**

 **And last, I had a couple of comments about how it was some sort of deus ex machina about the Targs having magic that prevents inbreeding. While never mentioned in the books who is to say that they didn't have access to such things once? Visenya Targaryen was a sorceress and think on it. Valyria was ruled by 40 families (targs was 1 of them) and all of them busy with keeping the bloodlines pure, rarely marrying outside the family. This was done over the span of 4-5000 years, if they didn't have some weird magic shit helping them out here the inbreeding would have killed them off long before the doom, just my opinion of course.**

 **Lastly I've got meself an account at Archiveofourown under the same penname I use here on FFN. In the future all lemons will only be included there, as I got way too many complaints and even a threat of reporting in this story if I continued to post such lemons as was in chapter 8. SO small limes at best will be included here on FFN.**

 **Cheers  
Tellie571**


	11. The Wheel keeps spinning

**AN: Updates will take a bit more time in the foreseeable future as I've gotten myself a new job which will cut into my writing time. I've decided to give a big fuck you to the whiners who can't handle a little smut. Yes there is a smut scene in this chapter and it has been clearly marked both the beginning and end, so it should be easy to skip. I've included a little scene from one of my favourite movies and gone and introduced a bit more magic in this chapter.**

 **Lastly I'd like to give a Kudos to MoonLancer who was kind enough to mention on his profile that this story was the inspiration for his own fic 'The Dragon Of Light'. It holds only two chapters so far but I found it enjoyable and recommend that any of you, my trusty readers take the time to read it and give him/her the same support you give me, now onto the story.**

 **Stepstones. 1** **st** **month 298 AC**

 **Stannis.**

It had taken Stannis a little over three months to reach the Stepstones. His first action upon leaving King's Landing was to gather the remainders of the Royal Fleet, three-and-sixty in all. He had then called together all of the Lords who were sworn to Dragonstone for a meeting. One after the other the Lords had trickled in, all of them taking their sweet time and paying lip service, it was quite obvious that their true loyalty laid with the Targaryens, especially since House Velaryon of Driftmark, his own wife's family had barely provided six hundred men claiming like the rest of the houses that it was all they could field at the moment, an action that brought a small smile to his face, their tone would change soon enough.

He had naturally informed each of the Lords that the reason he was calling the banners was to bring the fight to the Targaryens, the shock on their faces when he revealed to all of them in the Chamber of the Painted Table that he was actually intending to join up with the King of the Stepstones and the Narrow sea, and gift him the Royal Fleet as he did was quite satisfying. Silence had reigned golden after that announcement, at least until Monford Velaryon had laughed heartily and slapped his back, an action that prodded the rest of the men to do the same.

A grand feast had taken place that night for the sons and closest retainers of his various Lords while he and the Lords themselves discussed how they would go forth. Velaryon, Sunglass, Celtigar and Bar Emmon each promised a thousand men and one of their sons (only son in Velaryon's case). The plan was for the fleet to sail to the Stepstones, a letter would then be sent to King's Landing, announcing Stannis' defection and that he held the sons of the respective houses 'hostage', preventing any of the houses to play any significant part in the war to come.

His friend Davos would also be accompanying him with his family as Robert would no doubt punish Davos for Stannis' treachery. The next month was spent preparing the fleet, emptying whatever was in his treasury, as well as taking anything left by the Targaryens, no doubt the King would appreciate it.

One of Varys' little birds showed up a week before their departure with a stash of letters meant for the eyes of the King, and another letter for himself with instructions of opening it the day before the last day of the year and not to share it with anyone, little did Stannis know that similar letters had been sent to every Lord in the Realm with similar instructions.

The day before the new year he opened the heavy letter and after a quick read he felt the famous Baratheon temper flow through him. The letter explained in detail how the Maesters of the Citadel had been acting as puppet masters and spies for centuries, and provided proof in the form of several messages that had been sent back and forth by himself and previous Baratheons over the years, each of the messages were private in nature and should had been read only by the intended recipient and then burnt, even Maester Cresson, his own personal Maester who had acted as a father to him over the years had betrayed him and reported on him to the Citadel…Maester Cresson did not survive that night.

The day after the new year came he set out from Dragonstone with the Royal Fleet and sailed towards the Stepstones with six thousand men under his command. The journey was completely unremarkable as sailing trips went. One month of gentle sea with fair winds and sun. He was surprised at first that no ships of the Targaryen fleet came to meet them, even when they had the Stepstones in their sight. It wasn't until they were almost upon the island chain that his respect for the King rose. They were about a mile from landing on the closest of the islands when a flaming bolt landed less than fifty feet from his ship, and subsequently made his men jump in shock as another eleven followed in quick succession. Each of the bolts were almost twice the length of a man and made of heavy steel, the sheer power needed to propel such a bolt over such a distance was mind boggling and as he gazed upon the isles through his Myrish lens he could spot enormous crossbows attended by what seemed to be a dozen men, a dozen men who were already readying their weapons to take a new shot.

He had quickly ordered his fleet to strike their sails and oars and drop anchor while raising white colours as Varys had instructed. They didn't wait long, perhaps half an hour before ship after ship each with two rows of ours came out from the straits towards them. No action was taken as the Targaryen fleet stopped perhaps a hundred yards away. The flagship of the Targaryen fleet, a four decked monstrosity flying dual colours of House Targaryen and Velaryon quickly dropped a rowboat that made its way over to his own ship the Fury.

Climbing up on his deck came twenty men, all of them clad in black halfplate with halberds and hand-and-a-half swords on their backs, each armour marked by a small red three headed dragon enamelled across their hearts and closed helmets shaped like dragons hid their faces. The leader of the men came last and Stannis narrowed his eyes at the familiar face.

Clad in shining plate and a sword at his hip the young man had the traditional features of House Velaryon with long silver blonde hair and amethyst eyes, the scream of "BROTHER", from young Monterys Velaryon and said boy jumping into his arms was more than enough for Stannis to identify the man as Aurane Waters, Monford's 'missing' bastard son.

Aurane laughed as he rufled his younger brother's hair before turning his gaze to Stannis. "Lord Stannis, I am Aurane Velaryon Lord of the Grey Gallows and Lord Paramount of the Stepstones, let me be the first to welcome you the heart of King Daeron Targaryen's Kingdom".

Stannis nodded his head slightly. "Thank you Lord Velaryon. I have come to pledge my allegiance to His Grace".

Aurane smiled slightly. "I know, and I've been given the task of escorting you to His Grace, these are treacherous waters, so men from my ships will act as pilots for yours to different harbours".

The next hour was spent waiting for the various ships to receive their pilots and head towards the various ports scattered on the Stepstones as Aurane got to know Stannis properly. He was pleased to meet Stannis' wife, his aunt and of course his young cousin Orys, he even greeted and treated Shireen as part of the family, even though he shared no blood with her, and gleefully told Shireen tales of his exploits while Stannis and his wife Elaena took in the sights around them as they sailed towards Bloodstone.

Stannis was impressed. The Stepstones had been in the hands of King Daeron for little more than half a year and already the isles were well on their way to becoming an impregnable fortress. From what he could see every island had massive ports under construction, paved roads, defensive emplacements with those huge crossbows. Scaffolds and massive cranes dotted each of the isles, huge blocks of stone were hauled here and there and from what he could see thousands of men ran to and fro working on this task or that. Most impressively were the huge columns of stone the stuck out of the sea around them and after asking Aurane for clarification he raised his eyebrows in surprise. Apparently the columns were to be the foundation of a massive bridge system while in the centre of the isles where the waters were calmest a massive fortress/dock system was to be constructed. At first he had exclaimed doubt about the feasibility of such, Aurane's reply went unheard however as the explanation of how it was possible became clear to Stannis. An enormous white dragon flew in the air, clutched in its talons was a block of stone heavy enough to smash through a city wall if a catapult had been large enough to launch it, and surrounding the column in the water stood fifteen men on scaffolds who manoeuvred the giant piece of stone into place as the dragon hovered in place with the aid of its massive wings and lowered the block slowly so the men could place it into proper position, once it had released the block the dragon and its pale haired rider flew away.

The remainder of the trip was spent in shocked silence. There was not much in the world that could shock Stannis Baratheon, but a dragon large enough to swallow a man whole and lift a piece of stone the size of a ship was definitely one such thing, much to the amusement of the Targaryen loyalists aboard their ships. Eventually they docked at Bloodstone where fresh horses awaited them, and as they rode towards the keep Stannis let his eyes wander to and fro, taking in as many details as he could.

It was clear that Bloodstone was the island that was concentrated on the most. Roads ran every way one could imagine. The port itself ran out into the sea. Made entirely from stacked blocks of rock it was large enough to accommodate a hundred ships at any given time and the city that had formed around it was constructed from grey rocks in a perfect grid pattern. Guards in identical armour patrolled in pairs while other men, all of them wearing simple red shirts or no shirt at all were working side by side with other men and women, often derogating tasks, shouting orders or taking notes. The city was protected by a wall thirty feet high and half as wide, while the port itself was also walled in with a proper gatehouse to make sure that anyone invading the port would not be able to enter the city proper without first taking the gate.

"How many men have your working here Lord Velaryon"? Stannis asked as they rode towards the keep. The outside of the city being as busy as the city itself with construction projects scattered everywhere you looked.

"The island itself holds five thousand Unsullied and the entirety of the First Legion, as well as probably twenty thousand men and women who came here from the mainland, the rest of the isles holds the rest of the Unsullied, some four thousand including those in training, the Third Legion and perhaps thirty-five or forty thousand men and women split about the various islands…that's the reason why Bloodstone has gone farther than the other isles, lot more men here".

Stannis nodded in acceptance, it made sense after all since this was the current capital of the King. As they Dragon's Keep came closer Stannis noted the similarities between it and Dragonstone. Dragonstone was bigger of course and more defensible in theory at least, but with the defensive emplacements scattered all around the keep Stannis knew that taking it would be a nightmare. Finally Stannis, his family and his closest retainers were guided into the throne room where the King sat on his throne, his sister wife was seated at his side, and from her bulging stomach Stannis knew she was not far away from giving birth.

"Your Grace – ", Aurane said. "-I present to you Stannis Baratheon, Lord of Dragonstone, his wife Elaena from the House Velaryon and his children, Shireen and Orys of the House Baratheon".

Stannis and his family all knelt and he unsheathed his sword and laid it before him on the floor. "Your Grace, I have come to swear fealty to you, the rightful King of Westeros"…

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 **Daeron POV:**

It had been an exhausting four moons since The pregnancies of Rhaenys, Tyene and Sarella had been revealed to him. The two sand snakes and Oberyn had stayed for two weeks before returning to Dorne, two weeks which had been quite…pleasurable he admitted to himself, but a realm in expansion stopped for no one, regardless of how pleasurable the activities of the bedchambers were and he was being run ragged.

Every day he spent hours in various meetings, further hours were spent outside as he and Dany used their dragons to help with heavy lifting until when nightfall came he was treated to the mercurial temper of his sister wife who sometimes came down with the strangest cravings. Other times she could yell at him for any slight (imagined or otherwise) or she'd exhaust what little energy was left in him as she was gripped by insatiable urges in the bedchambers.

Dany was also stressing him out. She was becoming bolder and bolder in her advances, constantly teasing and flirting with him, sometimes surprising him by appearing from seemingly out of nowhere to push him against the wall to kiss him heatedly before disappearing, leaving him dazed and wanting. If he was honest with himself he knew that the only reason he had not visited her own chambers thus far was because she was still only four-and-ten, there was nothing wrong with her looks to be sure. She had outgrown her girlish figure and was looking more and more like a grown woman for every day, a decent chest for her age, hips that had started to gain a more womanly shape to them and a backside that fuelled his nightly fantasies more and more. Her long blonde locks, so similar to his own and alluring amethyst eyes set in a face that more than rivalled Rhaenys' own beautiful features, worse when he told Rhaenys his sister just laughed and grinned smugly while sharing a surreptitious wink with Dany.

His meetings were also draining. Hours every day he spent in Daeronsport with his head researchers to discuss various advances and the like. The Academy was going well with both students and teachers being quite eager. The Master Smith from Qohor Lehgo Somh had put his head together with Archmaester Marwyn and two of his alchemists and through some trial and error had improved the closed furnaces the smiths used so far. The new furnaces were made out of hardened bricks bound and sealed together with clay and a lime based mortar. The top portion was only sealed with clay, making it easy to knock it off with a hammer. The bottom part had a few holes for ventilation as well as a small opening for stoking the fire.

Lehgo had showed him what they did. First they filled the furnace with coal. Then he had showed Daeron clay forms he had made that he filled with raw iron, a small amount of charcoal, sand and burnt bones he had then sealed the form with more clay and put the forms into the furnace before sealing it. He had then lit the furnace and together with his two apprentices started to work the three massive bellows. The heat in the forge was so great that even he could feel it and after almost six hours of working the bellows Legho had knocked the top of the furnace off and used metal tongs to remove the three clay containers. Using a hammer Legho knocked the clay forms off from the ingot contained within.

He explained the process as he worked of course, Daeron and several other smiths and apprentices listening in with rapt attention. The charcoal added to the raw iron would turn it into steel, while the sand and bones bound the 'impurities' or slag as he called it that was in the iron, leaving them with an ingot of pure steel without impurities. He had also explained that the mistake many smiths made was that they cooled the metal too quickly, instead they should keep the metal hot as they worked it. For eight hours Legho, his two apprentices and Daeron's three best smiths worked together in pairs as they pounded the ingot into shape, often returning it into another furnace where they ran it back and forth to keep it warm. It took another seven hours of working the steel, sharpening it, quenching it and etching it with acid until the blade was finished.

The finished product caused several smiths and even Marwyn to swear loudly. The same rippling pattern that decorated Valyrian steel blades was present in the three finished swords and further testing proved that the steel was far superior to any other steel they had at disposal, only Valyrian steel itself was superior, and that was only because of the forgotten spells woven into them, but for now they at least had steel superior to any other in the world, the only downside was the time needed to produce a single ingot and working it, but with the payment Daeron promised him Legho was more than willing to teach the rest of his smiths as well.

Normal armour would still be made from so called 'castle forged' steel, while all future weapons would be made from the new 'Crucible' steel as they called it, Daeron had even managed to convince Legho to fashion a suit of armour for himself, Rhaenys and Daenerys. Anyone else wanting suits of crucible steel armour would have to pay for it out of their own pockets.

On the literary front Marwyn was pleased to inform him that they had finished copying nearly every book from the citadel as well as secret correspondence gathered over the years. Proclamations he had sent out across Essos inviting anyone with a fascination of the magical arts had produced almost two score of hedge wizards/witches, fire priests and even a pair of shadowbinders from Asshai, who settled into a new building to try and create the first 'Magical Academy' in the world. Daeron spent several hours a week in discussion with them as forgotten tomes liberated from the Maesters, as well as Valyrian scrolls were poured over. Magic was still pretty much primal, and he had been quite adamant that magicks that created live sacrifices and the like was not to be permitted. They were to study and improve on magic yes, but some magicks were too foul to be put into use, surprisingly enough blood magic was far from as 'evil' as most would tell, most of it involved personal sacrifice rather than the sacrifice of others.

The alchemists he had also worked well with his wizards as he and they pooled their knowledge of potions and similar. It would take decades, if not centuries before magic could be refined to the point it was when he was Harry Potter, but through one of the discussions they held he had managed to front the idea of a 'focus' for channelling magic and the likely way they could craft such things, and already they were experimenting and writing down theories.

Daeron was also quite insistent on trying to track down magical creatures or even trying to crossbreed animals. From his life as Harry Potter he knew that several creatures such as Griffins or Hippogryphs were of wizard make, while others simply developed as magic settled across the lands and in some areas grew more and more powerful. Magic was already on the rise, and action most said was due to the birth of the dragons, and they theorised the continuous use of magic in the academy was also aiding.

The first attempt at crossbreeding had happened at Daerons suggestion. The academy already had a large collection of animals for study, and on Daeron's order a few unlucky sods had 'milked' a few of the male lions for their seed and collected it. The seed had then been injected into thirty unhatched eagle eggs that he had purchased for this very purpose. He had taught a few of his fellow magicians how to 'feel' the magic within them and how to channel it into their hands and into an object while others already knew how to do so. So every day he and the other magicians took the eggs into their hands and tried to 'stimulate' them by pouring magic through them. Every time they did so the eggs grew a little in size until the eggs were almost as big as dragon eggs, and heated nests made sure the eggs would eventually hatch. Not that everything had gone perfectly. Seven of the eggs had burst as they were stimulated too much, but after almost a month they all hatched, and Daeron had been very surprised when he was told during his visit to the academy.

He had not gotten Griffins as he had hoped, but rather a new species. All the hatchlings were the size of lion cubs. Their long necks were feathered and gimlet eyes stared at him and the others taking in every detail. Their mouths were curved beaks with four long 'teeth' both on the upper beak and the lower beak to aid in mauling their pray. Their legs were like a normal lion's with the exception of the paw itself which held not only large powerful talons, but also an 'opposable' thumb with a talon which would make it easier for the creatures to grasp and/or crush. With the exception of the neck and head they were covered in yellowish fur like a lion, but as he inspected the creatures closer he could see that their forms were far more compact and muscled than that of any lion's body, and as such they were probably much stronger. After a few minutes of introspection he silenced the others around him and announced that he would name the new species as Demigryphs in homage to the Griffins and Hippogryphs of his old world.

The Demigryphs were fortunately easy to feed, no milk was required as they were apparently ready born predators who consumed meat from day one. They had barely been hatched for a week before they had to separate them as the males all started to fight each other. Plans were made for a future breeding programme, while Daeron picked gathered together fifty Knights and tasked them with trying to tame the beasts in order to perhaps one day use them as mounts, which would hopefully happen sooner rather than later as the lethal creatures grew at an astonishing rate.

On the military front things progressed well for him. The Stepstones themselves held two Legions, all of the Unsullied, half his fleet, his personal guard, and three hundred knights (including his future Demigryph core) as well as the crews of his ships. Daeronsport held the other two Legions with another two under training as well as his remaining Knights and all the cavalry of the Legions. He had picked out over a thousand men who were the best with a longbow many of them former hunters and woodsmen and gathered together many others who held knowledge of woodcraft as well as the art of sneaking around. The plan was to form these thousand men into experienced rangers in the spirit of Robin Hood to act as scouts, foresters and sharpshooters. He intended to send half of them over to Westeros shortly to infest the forests and build up small guerrilla groups to harry the Usurper and his followers, much like the bandits he had used earlier, only this time he would try to make sure they weren't caught.

He had made sure that Marwyn wrote down letters to every Lord in Westeros and included evidence of the actions and the Citadel and collaborated with Varys to ensure that every Lord would receive and open the letter more or less instantaneously the day before the new year. Varys had also informed him of the duplicity of Illyrio as well. While worryingly that a Blackfyre was still alive and gathering an army in the east, Illyrio's vast wealth would no doubt aid there he was unable to do anything about it for now. Khal Drogo was getting ever closer as he moved his khalasar across the Dothraki Sea, and Daeron knew that he would have to deal with the horselord before he could ever entertain the notion of invading the east. Fortunately his grip on the mainland of Essos would soon increase. With the Golden Company, the Windborne and the Second Sons all leaving the conflict in the disputed lands, and the naval powers of Lys, Tyrosh and Myr crippled Daeron saw his chance of seizing the three city states in one fell blow.

Chaos reigned in the Disputed Lands as the three most powerful mercenary companies abandoned their contracts and daily skirmishes and alliances breaking and forming from day to day were doing nothing but working to his advantage. He had already initiated the first stage. Weapons and disguised legionnaires from the second and fourth Legion had been smuggled into the three cities. Weekly shipments of weapons were being smuggled in and discretely handed out to disgruntled slaves while his undercover men who hid in brothels, taverns and sewers held secret gatherings to not only coordinate the future offensive but also to make sure that no one 'jumped the gun' as it were by initiating conflict too soon. Once he had those three cities under control he could easily increase his forces from the grateful slaves who would no doubt grab the chance of a new and better life with both hands. His latest report from Varys was also promising as it seemed Stannis Baratheon had abandoned Dragonstone to swear fealty to him along with the remainder of the Royal Fleet and six thousand men. His internal musings were cut short however when he entered his solar as moans could be heard from his bedchambers. Smiling to himself he quickly divested himself of most of his clothes until he was clad only in his breeches and opened the door to his and Rhaenys' bedchambers only to stop from shock.

The naked and pregnant form of his wife was no surprise, the blonde head currently between Rhaenys' legs attached to a body whose form should be illegal and currently licking his wife's folds however was not expected however. Hearing the door open Daenerys ceased her ministrations to Rhaenys' protests and leaned back and turned towards him, her lips glistening with Rhaenys' juices and her upper body and delightful breasts blushing with arousal. Giving him a sultry smile that made his manhood jump in anticipation Dany crooked her finger as if to lure him in. "Come nephew, we've been waiting for you".

That was enough for Daeron who almost fell to the floor in his eagerness to divest himself of his breeches.

 ***L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R**L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R**L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R**L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R**L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R**L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R***

 **LEMON SKIP IF YOU DON'T LIKE**

 ***L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R**L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R**L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R**L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R**L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R**L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R***

As he knelt on the bed he turned his gaze towards Rhaenys who was watching him smugly. "How long have you two been doing this"? he asked sharply.

"Done what"? Rhaenys asked innocently as she stroked her glistening folds.

"Don't play coy with me sister, you two were far too comfortable for this to be your first time", his attempt at being strict failed somewhat as he let out a moan when Dany took his cock in her soft hand and started to rub it up and down while pressing soft bites and kisses on his neck.

Rhaenys grinned slightly. "Dany has shared my bed for the last two moons, you've been too busy to keep me company until late at night".

Daeron's retort disappeared as Dany kissed and nibbled her way down his chest while his mind filled with images of the two women together. "I've wanted you for some time now nephew", Dany said with a smile before she let her tongue glide experimentally across the head of his cock.

Daeron groaned at the sensation and unconsciously fisted his hands in her hair, "More", he groaned at Dany who shared a giggle with Rhaenys at his eagerness.

Whatever retort Dany intended to make was lost however as Rhaenys slid down the bed between her legs and grabbed Dany by the cheeks of her arse and slowly let her tongue slide through the slit of her folds. Dany let out a small whimper of pleasure as she threw her head back and closed her eyes at the sensation of Rhaenys' tongue tasting her flower, Daeron's cock in her hand all but forgotten. She caught up quickly at least and soon returned to her task of bringing him off. While it was clear that she didn't have Rhaenys' talent when it came to the art of sucking his manhood, her swirling tongue and sucking motions was more than adequate to coax incoherent moans and babbling from his mouth as he gripped her hair almost painfully, and before he could give more than a grunt of warning he erupted.

Dany must have been warned by Rhaenys as she barely widened her eyes at the torrent of cum blasting out of his cock and she tried desperately to swallow it all. Three pulses she managed before removing his manhood from her succulent mouth, letting the rest of his seed splatter across her face and chest as her breathing increased before she suddenly stiffened as Rhaenys' ministrations brought her over the edge.

Putting her gently down on the bed Daeron seized Rhaenys' lips in a heated kiss, greedily taking in the taste of his aunt's juices. The siblings eventually broke their kiss and Daeron almost dove into Dany's cunt. The lips of her flower were spread slightly and practically glistening from a mix of Rhaenys' saliva as well as her own juices and her taste was almost divine. Just as Rhaenys' cunt had its own distinctive taste so did Dany's have a taste that was uniquely hers, and Daeron was more than eager to taste as he explored her. Up and down his tongue went, mapping out every spot, and an arm thrown over her waist held her down as her body jerked in pleasure, still high from her earlier peak.

Lurid sounds as well as the muffled moans of Dany prompted him to raise his head and the sight of his sister licking and kissing all over Dany's mouth and face caused his cock to harden once more. Rhaenys eventually tired of kissing Dany and quickly positioned herself over her younger niece, pinching and massaging her breasts as Dany started to lick her womanhood eagerly. The oral ministrations of Daeron and Dany continued uninterrupted for the next few minutes before Rhaenys screamed out in bliss while practically showing Dany's face with her juices. Shivering slightly Rhaenys got off Dany and laid down on her side to watch her two lowers with heavy eyes filled with lust.

Daeron smiled as he repositioned himself over Dany. He stroked his manhood up and down across her glistening lips before slowly easing it in. When he encountered her barrier he gave her a soft kiss. "This will hurt Dany", he said softly as he kissed her forehead.

Dany nodded before embracing him, clinging her arms around his neck tightly and he gave a hard thrust forward, piercing her maidenhood. Daenerys whimpered in pain as she seized up and both Daeron and Rhaenys stroked her softly while whispering words of comfort. Eventually Dany relaxed and started to urge him to continue.

Daeron smiled at Dany who gazed up at him, eyes burning in lust and she quickly started to give out moans and whimpers of pleasure. Daeron grit his teeth slightly in concentration as he sped up his thrusts, the feeling of Dany's hot sheathe clinging desperately to his cock was maddening but he wanted to make this about more than just his pleasure. Rhaenys proved to be a great help however as she attacked Dany's nipples with her mouth while using her fingers to stroke Dany's nub, every once in a while bringer her fingers up to her mouth to wet them. As the speed of his thrusts increased Dany slung her feet around his waist and hooked them behind his back while grabbing him by his hair to bring how down for a heated kiss.

Both of them mewled like animals as their tongues plundered the other's mouth, both trying to wrestle the other into submission. Feeling himself getting closer to the edge he withdrew his tongue from Dany's mouth and repositioned himself slightly. He raised himself to his knees and grabbed Daenerys' hips before resuming thrusting in and out of her warm heat at a frantic pace. As often happened whenever he laid with his sister his vision almost disappeared in a red haze as he railed into her with abandon until he felt himself soaring over the edge. Throwing his head back he yelled in pleasure as his cock painted her sheathe and womb white. Dany herself screamed alongside him, the sensation of Daerons cock slamming into her cunt with abandon couple with Rhaenys licking and sucking her nipples while furiously rubbing her nub was more than enough to make her see stars and she slumped back on the bed cooing as she felt Daerons warm seed fill her. Tired after their session Daeron removed his cock from his aunts hot sheathe and laid down beside her, giving first her then Rhaenys a kiss, and he barely noticed that Rhaenys and Dany both cuddled up to him and drew the covers over them.

 ***L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R**L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R**L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R**L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R**L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R**L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R***

 **LEMON END**

 ***L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R**L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R**L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R**L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R**L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R**L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R***

Daeron was the first to wake up the following morning and he couldn't help but smile as he gazed down on the two women he loved more than any other in the world, one his sister and the other his aunt. Both seemed to be like night and day, one pale and one dark but he knew both more than enough to see that they were two of a kind. Both of them strong, independent and as last night showed not afraid to take what they wanted. Dany was the next to wake up and after blinking her eyes slightly let out a satisfied sigh.

"Good morning", she whispered as she pressed a kiss to his lips.

Daeron grinned as his left hand snaked around her form to grasp her behind, kneading the cheek slightly. "Good morning Dany".

Daenerys bit her lip in order to stay silent and delivered a half-hearted slap to his chest, "Stop it Daeron, we need to get up".

Daeron sighed, it was true after all there was more than enough that needed to be done today, including checking in on the Demigryphs who were getting larger than wolves already. "I…assume last night was not a…one-time thing"? he half asked, half stated as he washed his face.

It was Rhaenys who answered however as she had apparently woken up in his absence. "Did you think I invited her to our bed simply for the company sweet brother"?

Daeron turned and watched the two of them, both stretching sinfully, causing his manhood to harden before turning an identical innocent look to him. "You two are going to be the death of me one day", he grumbled at the pair who were more than content to simply lay there, completely unashamed at their nakedness, and knowing full well how it would drive him mad.

"You should consider yourself fortunate to have a pair such as these nephew", he shivered at the sudden feeling of being doused in hot water as the ghost of Visenya appeared before him, she too seemed unaffected at the view and shared the impish grin that had stretched across Rhaenys and Daenerys' face.

"By the Gods! Is nothing sacred anymore", he grumbled as he tried his best to put on a pair of breeches, wincing at how tight they were due to his…'condition'.

Visenya sniggered as she stared at his form. "Nothing I haven't seen before nephew, and if I might say so you have nothing to be unashamed of".

Daeron stubbornly turned his back as he finished dressing before leaving with haste, the giggles of the two living and one dead Targaryen ringing in his ears.

The following week passed much like the previous ones, with the exception that Daenerys had now moved into his and Rhaenys' bed, not that he minded that of course. The new status of their relationship had yet to be discussed however as his duties still kept both himself and Dany busy until late evening, at which point all three of them were far more concerned about taking pleasure in each other than to discuss what role Dany had in their relationship. She was as much Daeron's lover as Rhaenys was or he to Rhaenys'.

It was at the end of the week that he was informed that Stannis Baratheon would be arriving so he quickly took a bath and dressed in new clothes before escorting Rhaenys to the throne room. Lately he had tried to make sure that Rhaenys kept to their chambers for the most part as the babe could come any day now, but she was adamant that as Queen she was to be at his side when Stannis came to bend the knee.

Stannis and his party was escorted into the throne room by Aurane and some of the Dragonguard. Stannis was followed closely by his Velaryon wife, his son and daughter trailing behind their father, slightly further back came the sons from the other houses sworn to Dragonstone, just as Varys had informed him. Stopping a few paces away from the raised dais that held his and Raenys' thrones.

"Your Grace – ", Aurane said. "-I present to you Stannis Baratheon, Lord of Dragonstone, his wife Elaena from the House Velaryon and his children, Shireen and Orys of the House Baratheon".

Stannis and his family all knelt and he unsheathed his sword and laid it before him on the floor. "Your Grace, I have come to swear fealty to you, the rightful King of Westeros".

Daeron held his silence for a moment before he spoke up. "Tell me Lord Stannis. Why do you swear fealty to me? Is it to save your family or do you have other reasons"?

Stannis raised his head to look at Daeron. "I do this to save my family yes, but also because I have seen what kind of King my brother is. He is another Aegon the Unworthy and his eldest son is even worse, an entitled sadistic little brat that will lead what remains of the Realm into ruin…I refuse to be part of it any longer".

Daeron nodded thoughtfully. "I thank you for your honesty, and in recognition of the fact that we are kin through your grandmother I will accept your oath of fealty. Serve me well and I will make sure that you are returned to your ancestral seat of Storm's End once we retake Westeros".

Stannis nodded in thanks and at a gesture from Daeron stood up and sheathed his sword at his side again.

"We have much to speak about Lord Stannis, but there is also much to be done, so please for the rest of the day I need you to accompany me as we converse".

While their meeting was short, neither of them really knowing each other Stannis found it easy to fall in with the King and his guards as well as Aurane who joined them. A lifetime of duty and sharing a similar militaristic mind eased the unfamiliarity they held with each other. Daeron for his part had no problems trusting Stannis, his highly organised mind was ironically easier than most to peruse and he had detected no lie when Stannis swore that he was there to serve him.

Daeron was very grateful that Stannis was such a skilled commander as he was. Despite not being familiar at all when it came to the Legions or even the Unsullied he quickly grasped the concepts and was not only impressed but was quick to come up with suggestions for improvement as well as tactics. The most amusing thing of the day was when they visited the Demigryphs, all but one of them had so far chosen a rider with the exception of the biggest one who one of the handlers had named Bright. Stannis was very impressed at the apparent lethality of the creatures and barely raised an eyebrow when told of how they had been created, just as they were about to leave however Bright smashed open the door to his bay that the handler had neglected to lock properly.

Letting out a shriek like an eagle only much louder Bright stormed straight towards Daeron on to be knocked to the ground as Stannis jumped the irate Demigryph. The Baratheon Lord and young Demigryph wrestled back and forth in a flurry of screams, shrieks and feathers until Stannis stood up. Blood flowed from a trio of claw marks on the left side of his head while the Demigryph panted angrily before reluctantly bowing before Stannis its head lowered to the floor. Silence raigned at first before Daeron laughed. "It seems Lord Stannis that Bright here has finally chosen his rider".

Stannis looked confused at first as he stared back at Daeron. "What do you mean Your Grace? he tried to kill me".

"Look around you Lord Stannis – ", Daeron said as he pointed to several of the Knights who had attended their own Demigryphs. "- Every Demigryph tries to kill his or her rider, only if the rider manages to make it submit or at least survive its fury relatively unscathed will the Demigryp accept him as its rider".

And true enough, when Stannis looked closer he could see that every one of the Knights carried some form of scar from their mount, he observations were broken as Bright suddenly bumped his head into his hand and Stannis reflexively stroked his feathered head, causing the Demigryph to let out a keening sound of enjoyment.

"How big will they get Your Grace"? Stannis asked as his mind started to think on the potential these animals held.

"We are not sure yet", Daeron said. "But from the size of the eggs and their growth rate I'd say they will be bigger than an ox when fully grown, and from the strength of their jaws and claws at this stage they'll be able to tear through armour with ease, I'd wager they could tear through an elephant without too much trouble".

Stannis eyes widened slightly as his mind immediately started to think of ways to utilize the beasts. With that size and strength they would easily be able to carry heavy armour for added protection, their nature that was part lion would probably spook horses and with their size they would be the perfect shock unit to break cavalry charges or tear their way through ranks of infantry, if a sufficient breeding programme could be established…

"Your Grace, Your Grace"… Stannis was broken out of his reverie as a runner caught up with them panting heavily.

"Take a breath boy", Daeron said as the runner tried to speak while gasping for breath.

"Your wife Your Grace, she is giving birth", Stannis barely had time to grasp what the boy was saying before to his shock the King disappeared with a loud 'CRACK'! of displaced air.

After making sure that Bright was properly locked in this time Stannis, Aurane and Ser Alliser all made their way back up to the keep as swiftly as they could. They eventually came upon the King who was pacing nervously back and forth outside the doors of his chambers with a half worried, half disgruntled look on his face, while Sers Barristan and Oswell bock looked to be holding in laughter.

"Problems"? Alliser asked his fellow Kingsguard Knights.

"His Grace was quite disgruntled at being forcibly removed from his wife's side", Ser Oswell said with a chuckle.

"Not to mention the death threats", Daeron mumbled to himself, causing grins to flash around the faces of the other men in the corridor, and Stannis winced in sympathy, he had not been there when Shireen was born, but he vividly remembered the threats Elaena had spewed as she brought their son into the world.

The King showed no sign of ceasing his worries, or pacing and Stannis could see that he was working himself into a state of panic as his mutters increased. Giving Aurane an apologetic look he grabbed the hip flask Aurane carried and handed it to the King. "Drink Your Grace", he commanded.

Daeron blinked slightly before taking the flask and upended it into his mouth, eagerly consuming the potent alcohol before sliding down the wall to slump there. "Thank your Lord Stannis"; the King sighed as he closed his eyes.

For the next eight hours they waited until Daenerys exited from the door with a smile and gestured for Daeron to follow. Daeron was shaking so much that Stannis and Ser Barristan both helped him up and half dragged, half carried him into the bedchambers while Oswell walked behind them. Rhaenys was in the bed. Her matted hair clung to her head and sweat glistened across her tired features while a pair of midwives cleaned her with warm towels. Rhaenys had never looked more beautiful to him however as she held a small bundle wrapped in pink cloth to her breast while a woman held another bundle and Daeron felt the breath leave his lungs. _"Tw-twins"_ , he gasped, before sweeping forward to give Rhaenys a kiss.

The woman who held the other bundle passed the babe into his arms and he accepted the bundle, letting the woman show him how to hold the babe properly. The babe was sleeping so he was unable to identify the colour if the eyes but he could see the babe was a perfect blend of himself and Rhaenys. Olive skin with a shock of fine silvery white hair and as he seated himself next to Rhaenys he could see the babe suckling from her teats shared the same features.

"Girls my love", Rhaneys said as she saw his unasked question forming on his face.

"They're perfect", Daeron said as he leant his head to Rhaenys'. "What shall we name them"?

The others in the room stiffened their ears as Daeron and Rhaenys whispered back and forth before both nodded in agreement.

"Lord Commander- ", Daeron said, causing Ser Oswell to snap to attention. "Let the bells toll and issue a proclamation of the births of my daughters, the Princesses Visenya and Rhaenyra of the House Targaryen".

Understanding that they had been dismissed the men offered their congratulations before leaving the room, only Ser Barristan remained at the Kings order, and soon enough the bells started to toll in celebration of the birth of the King's firstborn children. While this happened Ser Barristan stepped close to Daeron who stood up and offered the small babe to him. "You've probably held more members of my family than I've known in my life, would you like to hold her"?

Barristan took the girl and with an ease that showed his experience with such acts started to rock her gently as a smile stretched across his face. "A beautiful child Your Grace, thank you", he said as he rocked the girl, chuckling slightly as she gurgled sleepily.

"I expect you'll have your hands full watching these two Ser Barristan", Daeron said with a wry grin while Rhaenys handed the other girl over to a wetnurse who laid the babe down in a crib.

"I expect I will", Ser Barristan acknowledged. "Which one is this"? he asked as he nodded towards the child in his arms.

"She is Visenya", Daeron said. "Rhaenyra is in her crib".

Barristan nodded slightly as he walked over to the crib and laid the sleeping Visenya down beside her sister, "Sleep well child", Barristan whispered before escorting the wetnurse out of the room, leaving Daeron, Rhaenys and Daenerys alone.

 ***L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R**L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R**L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R**L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R**L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R**L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R***

 **Westeros. 1** **st** **month 298 AC**

While the Stepstones were celebrating the birth of the Crown Princess Visenya and her sister Rhaenyra Westeros was in political turmoil. The first day of the year had been marked with the death of nearly every Maester stationed in the various keeps and cities as their duplicity and spying was brought to the attention of the various Lords. A few like Ned Stark had contained their fury enough to simply escort their Maesters to the wall while many others let their Masters face death in various forms. Some were stabbed while still in their beds, bludgeoned or hanged while others were drowned like rats as the Lords they had spent years spying on unleashed their fury.

None could say who was more furious, Robert Baratheon for missing the chance at killing Pycelle or Tywin who had dragged the aging Grand Maester from his bed and out into the courtyard where he promptly removed his head with Brightroar. The Citadel and the Hightowers in Oldtown were in full panic mode as their treachery and in the Hightowers case their inclusion in the Maesters plots were brought to light, and the gates to the large city had been barred and Lord Leyton Hightower had already called up his levies and sent out ships in the vain hope of attracting sellswords to his side. Elsewhere in the Realm Lords were calling their own banners at Robert's orders to root out the Maesters from the Citadel as well as delivering judgement on the Hightowers.

Ned had set out from White Harbour with thirty ships and five thousand northerners at his side, his son Robb especially excited as he had been given a ship of his own to command as well as men. Ned had been hesitant to bring Robb but Robert had ordered him to come and to bring his two eldest sons as he wanted to see them. Any feelings of friendship Ned held for Robert had long since disappeared, yet he was hesitant to refuse a direct order from his King since he knew that his nephew was not yet ready to wage war upon Westeros.

Tragedy had struck however as sometime after they passed the Stepstones unscathed (having a nephew as King of the Stepstones helped him there) a violent storm broke out and scattered the northern fleet. After two days all but three ships had been accounted for, Robb's ship was not amongst them, he just hoped that his son was alive, and he swore that Walder Frey would pay. The blasted weasel had refused Ned and his army to cross the Twins without paying an exorbitant price in gold, alternatively he could have wed Robb to one of Lord Frey's daughters, but he had refused to give the old man the pleasure that was why they took ships instead. The rest of the journey was spent with a heavy heart, even more so since he had to console Jon who was devastated at the possible death of his brother, one thing was sure, once he found Robert he would do his best to make it so that Robert would deliver a heavy punishment to House Frey.

 ***L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R**L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R**L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R**L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R**L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R**L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R***

 **Sandy beach, somewhere in the world. 2** **nd** **month 298 AC**

 **Robb:**

Robb groaned as he opened his eyes and spat out a mouthful of sand. The storm they had sailed into had tossed him and the others on his ship back and forth like ragdolls. Many (himself included) had lost whatever they had in their bellies in the face of the heavy waves while the more experienced sailors had done their best to keep them alive. At first it seemed as if though they would make it until a particularly strong wave had smashed their rudder and toppled their mast. At that point every man had done his best to hold onto whatever piece of the ship that wasn't in danger of falling off as the storm swept them away on treacherous waves.

He didn't know how long they were caught in the storm that seemed to hold no end, and making the journey across the constantly shifting deck to go downstairs to get some food or something to drink was a trial by combat in and of itself. Even worse was when it came his turn to join the small cue of men who took turns of accepting buckets of water that he handed off to the next man who poured it over the rail as they did their best to make sure the ship didn't sink from the water it took in. Their lucky streak ended eventually as the ship came apart in a tremendous bang, as if a bolt of lightning struck nearby. Without any steering the ship had been carried on the currents and eventually smashed into a reef and thrown him and everyone else off-board and Robb had barely avoided drowning as he managed to grab on to a piece of driftwood. The water had been cold and he had almost lost hope several times as he drifted alone in the cold waters until he felt himself washing ashore on a sandy beach where he had promptly fallen asleep.

As he woke properly he felt elation pour through him giving warmth to his chest and limps and he laughed heartily as he pranced around on the beach, caring not about the heat of the sun baking down on his naked back. He didn't know how long he celebrated there with only himself for company, he did however notice that he was suddenly near a group of perhaps a dozen men. A dozen men who were all heavily armed and in the process of unloading cargo from a small dinghy into a room that was built underground, men that had ceased what they were doing and staring at him with nasty grins.

"Hello", the apparent leader of the men said. A tall well built man with long dark hair and a handsome beard.

"Hello", Robb replied slowly before spreading his hands defensively.

The man just smiled and sat down gesturing for Robb to do the same. Once Robb had seated himself in the sand the smuggler opened his mouth to speak. "So, mi amici, I would ask who you are, but in view of your shredded clothes and the fact that we saw your ship go down two miles away... what's the point? As for me, I am Luigi Vampa, a smuggler and a thief. My men and I have come to this island to bury alive one of our number who attempted to keep some stolen gold for himself instead of sharing it with his comrades. Interestingly enough, there are some of his more loyal friends who are insisting that I grant him mercy. Which, of course, I cannot do, or I would quickly lose control of the whole crew. That is why you are such a fortunate find".

Robb furrowed his brow slightly. "And why is that"? he questioned.

"You provide me with a way to show a little mercy to Jacopo - that maggot you see tied up over there - while at the same time not appearing weak. And as a bonus, the lads will get to see a little sport as well", Luigi said as he gestured toward the boat where indeed a man was lying in the sand, gagged and his arms tied behind his back.

A feeling of dread filled Robb as he suspected where this conversation was headed. "How do I accomplish all this"? he asked while crossing his fingers in the hope that nothing bad would come from it.

Luigi grinned showing a row if white teeth. "We watch you and Jacopo fight to the death. If Jacopo wins, we welcome him back to the crew. If you win, I have given Jacopo the chance to live, even if he did not take advantage of it, and you can take his place on the boat".

"What if I win and I don't want to be a smuggler"? Robb questioned.

"Then we slit your throat, and we're a bit shorthanded", Luigi said, his face still demonstrating that blasted grin.

Robb kept silent for a bit before offering his best smile, "I find that smuggling is the life for me, and would be delighted to kill your friend the maggot!".

Luigi smiled slightly before leaning forward slightly, "Oh, and by the way, Jacopo is the best knife fighter I have ever seen".

Robb smiled slightly as he replied, "Perhaps you should get out more...", hoping that Luigi would not take offense at the sarcasm in his tone.

Luigi roared with laughter before standing up and shouting to his crew, "Release Jacopo, and give him back his knife. And we'll let the games begin...", he then threw down a knife at Robb's feet.

Robb stood up, feeling they weight of the small dagger in his hands. He was hardly a master with a dagger, but he was strong and fast for his age and had spent years in the practice ring learning how to fight.

His opponent, a short stocky man with a stylish short cropped beard and thin black hair quickly launched a swift jab towards him that Robb deftly evaded. Robb struck back but found his strike avoided by the surprisingly nimble man who tried to deliver a downwards stab the Robb barely parried with his own dagger. For perhaps another minute Robb and his opponent traded blows before Robb spotted an opening. Lunging forward he grabbed the man by the shoulders and threw both of them to the sandy ground and before the man could realise what had happened Robb held his knife to Jacopo's throat. "If you hope to live, do not bat an eyelash", Robb told Jacopo who stared back with shocked eyes and quickly let go of the dagger in his hands. Robb nodded with satisfaction and plunged his own dagger into the sand beside Jacopo's head and turned towards Luigi and his men who were looking shocked as well.

"Master Vampa, allow Jacopo to live, he's already suffered enough at the prospect of being buried alive. The men who wanted some sport have seen it, those who wanted mercy for Jacopo will get it, and by keeping me and Jacopo you will add yet another skilled sailor and fighter for your crew".

Luigi frowned a bit at first before he stood up from where he was perched on the boat and smiled. "It's a deal", he said as he spread his arms in welcome.

"What is his name", one of the other smugglers asked.

"His name"? Luigi said before grinning. "We shall call him Zatarra", he said prompting chuckles from the other smugglers.

"Sounds fearsome", Robb said as he helped Jacopo to his feet.

"It means driftwood", Luigi said dryly before walking off.

Before Robb could do more Jacopo grabbed him by the arms and spoke with a determined tone to his voice. "I swear on my dead relatives - and even on the ones who are not feeling too good - I am your man forever!"

Robb patted his shoulder in a friendly gesture. "I know", he said and then walked over to where his new 'friends' were already at work again. He would miss his family, and one day he would return, but for now he would enjoy his new life and freedom from his duties…


	12. Interlude: Plans for Eastern Expansion

**Disclaimer: Nothing you've seen (or will see) that you recognise is mine no matter how much I may wish it.**

 **Dragon's Keep, War Room, 2** **nd** **month 298 AC:**

Daeron, Daenerys, Sers Oswell and Barristan, Luciferys, Aurane and Stannis as well as a few Legion officers and the like were gathered in the war room at the top of Dragon's Keep to discuss the new phase of expansion that was to be done this year, Daeron himself stood at the head of the table, a stack of letters from Varys lay scattered around him.

"These are not good news Your Grace", Stannis said as he read one of the letters (detailing the current build up of military forces in the Ghiscari Empire). "Even had they been our only foe we would be hard pressed to fight them, let alone defeat them".

Noises of protest (the Smalljon's amongst the loudest), immediately tried to shout Stannis down until Daeron raised a hand for silence.

"Lord Stannis speaks the truth. We have five Legions, with two more on the way, most of whom have never been tested in true battle. Were we to pool every man available to us, from legionnaire, unsullied or sailor we would, at best be able to field sixty-five, mayhap seventy-thousand men, against the full might of the Ghiscari Empire and their sellsword allies who are backing the Blackfyre pretender…even with Dragons we would lose".

A gloom settled around the room at his words, perhaps they thought Daeron was falling to despair, in that case they would be in for a big surprise.

"Our strength is in the fact that we have the most powerful navy, and a strong defensible position, we have three dragons and some of the finest military commanders in the world…and what's more we have the opportunity to cripple the Ghiscari and the Dothraki for decades".

Eyes widened at that and furious whispers broke out. "How would we do this Your Grace"? Aurane asked as he wracked his mind for ideas.

Daeron grinned as he pointed out a spot on the map. It was the mouth of an unnamed river not too far from the island of Ibb. "We are fortunate that we are in the middle of the Dothraki raiding season. Once the season is done, Khal Drogo will return to Vaes Dothrak to seek out the blessing of the Dosh Khaleen to wage war…he will return to nothing but ash".

"Why would he seek war against us Your Grace"? Stannis asked.

Daeron glanced at the dour Baratheon for a moment before returning his gaze to the map before him. "Illyrio Mopatis, through various intermediaries has managed to convince Khal Drogo that Daenerys fits to a prophecy of a woman who will birth the 'Stallion-Who-Mounts-The-World', the Khal of Khals in Dothraki legends, so while the Dothraki raid to and fro across the continent he is spending his time adding weaker khalasars to his own rather than raid, once he returns to Vaes Dothrak he will quite possibly have a hundred thousand dothraki screamers at his command, and by that time we will have made our move".

Placing out small figurines of ships and men around the map Daeron continued his explanation. "Lord Stannis will take the third Legion and the two under training, along with half of the fleet and anchor up here –", he placed the models in question at the mouth of the river he had pointed out. "- using canoes, rafts and small boats the force in question will travel upriver until they reach the lake known by the dothraki as the Womb of the World, and during the night, they'll attack Vaes Dothrak and burn it to the ground".

Stannis leant closer to study the map. The plan was feasible as the river in question was surrounded by thick forests on both sides, and from the shores closest to Vaes Dothrak he could have an army attack it from multiple angles within an hour, and if they were careful they would be able to approach undetected in the thick of night.

"Just burn it"? Stannis asked.

Daeron sighed, he wished that he had another choice, especially considering the events of King's Landing which had claimed the life of his brother Aegon and his stepmother Elia, as well as nearly claiming the life of Rhaenys.

"For the ruse to work we must leave no survivors, or at least as few as possible, the Dosh Khaleen must be killed in their entirety. In addition you will be dressed as Ghiscari legionnaires, and you'll bring with you a number of the pirate scum we hold prisoner here as well, dress them in the same armour you will be using and kill them…leave the corpses behind you".

The men (and woman) around the table suddenly grew grim as they realized what he had planned, while nodding in understanding. "When the khalasars return and find their homes, the Dosh Khaleen and other inhabitants dead from what appears to be the Ghiscari they will turn their full might against them", Stannis said approvingly.

"Aye – ", Daeron nodded. "- An army the world has not seen for an age will descend upon the might of the mightiest empire in the east, a war that can quite possibly last decades will embroil them, and keep them off our backs. The Blackfyre boy wishes a war, and so we shall provide him with such a war that the mere thought of the word will bring him pain".

Cheers broke out at that and Daeron let the men enjoy it for a bit, though he did not share their enthusiasm. Women and children would die from this, but he knew that unless they did this countless more of his own people would suffer the same fate or worse, and from the grim looks on Dany, Stannis, Oswell and Barristan's faces they too shared his opinion of this plan, necessary, but distasteful.

"While Stannis does this, Dany and I will take up our dragons and launch an attack on Tyrosh, Lord Aurane will coordinate with Lord Benjen to take Myr, while Lord Luciferys will take on Lys. Thanks to our earlier efforts the Tyroshy and Myrish fleets are all but annihilated and Lys has taken advantage of this by sending their ships all over Essos to capitalise on their reduced trading capabilities, as such, most of their naval response is also crippled, which will hopefully make it easy for us to land troops".

They spent a few more hours to work out the details before they all retired to start preparing, Stannis would sail with the tide, and the others would not be far behind him. War on a scale not seen since the War of the Ninepenny Kings or even the Dance was coming, and Daeron could only hope that it would turn out to his advantage, fortunately the latest missive from Varys had given him the perfect material in which to cause further destabilisation to the Usurper's rule.

While definite proof was as of yet not available, the mere whispers that the Usurper's children were bastards of incest by the Queen and her Kingslayer brother could cause immense amounts of damage. He had asked Varys to make sure that words would reach Renly, as well as to try to get Renly to try seizing the crown for himself (it was doubtful that the young Baratheon would fall for it, but there was a chance he would). In addition, if the information reached the ears of the wrong Septon (or right one depending on whose side you were on) Westeros could face a crisis of faith as the Faith Militant was resurrected and the pompous whoring windbags currently in place as the High Septon and Most Devout would no doubt take the side of the Baratheon/Lannister alliance who supported their opulence. Daeron would prefer to have the faith on his side, and the best way to do that (and to keep them from speaking out against his marriage to his sister) was to champion them (also getting the Faith Militant to rise would allow him to find their identities and remove the most dangerous ones of them before taking the throne), all in all, Westeros was slowly being steered towards Civil War, and once the Lions, the Stags and the Faith were in the midst of tearing each other to pieces Daeron would arrive and bring Order…

 **I apologise for how short this update is, and for how long it took to get out. I've not only been busy in my new job, but I've also been on a holiday for three weeks without computer access. Fear not however, I am in the process of writing a new chapter and you should expect it within a week, this short interlude was only so that you had something to wet your beaks a little.**

 **Read and Review**

 **Tellie571**


	13. Interlude II: Trouble in Quarth

**As always, nothing you recognize belongs to me, and my habit of stealing parts from movies continues. First one who can give me what movie I have taken content from this time will be allowed to request a one-shot from me, I'll contact him/her for further details.**

 **Quarth, 5** **th** **month 298 AC.**

 **Robb:**

Robb, Jacopo, Luigi and Saleri were all seated around a table in a rather dodgy tavern in the lower districts of Quarth, drinking and eating merrily at a successful deal that had just earlier that day been brokered. A Quartheen merchant (and acquaintance of Luigi) was in the business of selling spice, which normally shouldn't be a problem. The man however was selling spice independent of the Spicer's Guild (and making a tidy profit due to not having to share with the other guild members nor pay taxes), and was paying quite handsomely.

It had been a strange three months, torn away from everything he knew and cast into a crew of people with such different personalities that one would think it was a meeting of dozens of different civilizations (not far from the truth if he had to be honest with himself). While they started out a bit roughly (him being not only new but also the son of a High Lord) he had quickly become part of the crew. He was very good with a blade, strong and most importantly he worked hard. If there was something he did not know, he hounded and begged whomever knew to teach him.

Jacopo worked with him every day, the short stocky man, ever grateful for Robb sparing his knife proved to be an excellent teacher, both at fighting with knives and the tying of various knots. Saleri was quick to get Robb up to speed in how to climb the rigging of their small ship, how to strike of loose the sails, though Robb promised himself never to introduce Saleri to Bran (Bran was more than capable enough to scare their mother to an early grave with his climbing without being influenced by the fleet footed lorathi).

As Robb was the only man on board besides Luigi who not only knew how to read and write, but also how to work sums, Luigi was quick to take Robb under his wing to teach him how to read and navigate a map, use the sextant and apply the stars as a guide. He was still a novice, but he improved by the day and Luigi more than once gave him a warm smile and hearty slap on the back as Robb did a task correctly. He missed his family, and one day he would return, but at the same time the life he now lived was a…liberating experience. He was technically free to do or say what he pleased (though he'd received a fair amount of slaps across the head for making stupid observations or saying something that offended one of the crew mates). All in all, the crew of the 'Salty Wench' was a different family altogether, and as the youngest Robb was treated as a younger brother by most, a very strange but fascinating experience to Robb.

"So Zatarra- ", Luigi said suddenly as he slammed an empty goblet down on the table. "- What do you intend to do with your share?"

Robb stroked his chin for a moment. He had actually no idea what to do with his cut from the profits, aboard Luigi's ship every man got an equal share, with a small portion from every crew member's cut set aside for any repairs or provisions needed, even Luigi as the captain did not take more than the other crew members, which was completely different from what Robb had experienced so far, after all in Westeros, a Lord got far more of the spoils than the peasant levy who was lucky if he got any spoils at all besides what he looted from the corpses on the battlefield.

"I think- ", Robb said. "- That I'll try to get myself some armour for starters", his own had gone down with the ship he had sailed on before.

Whatever words Luigi had intended to speak were broken short as the door smashed open and five guards clad in gleaming copper scales and curved swords stepped in, followed by a man in similar (if not slightly more ornate) armour and a stylish leather hat with a collection of long colourful feathers on top. "Luigi Vampa, you are under arrest. Come quietly and you and your companions will not be harmed", the man with the feathered hat said.

Robb glanced at his captain and two fellow ship mates for assurance, he had no idea what to do in this situation after all, though he noted with a small amount of surprise that Salveri had disappeared. Luigi however did not notice (or more likely did not care) as he started laughing.

"And why would we be under arrest?" Luigi asked, his voice shaking with restrained mirth.

The leader of the guards did not share Luigi's mirth however and almost shook with rage as he pointed a trembling finger towards Luigi. "You'll get to know the charges after you've come with us, Vampa", the man snarled, causing Luigi to break out into giggles again.

"Just because you've suddenly gotten a promotion to guard captain Xero Deem, does not make me a criminal…I can assure you, your sister did not complain, and has asked for repeat performances every time I've visited Quarth, so run along until you can pin a real crime on me…I rather not kill the uncle of three of my children…or is it four?"

" **It is SIX** ", Xero hissed angrily, "As you very well know. And you cost our family a large amount of gold when you sullied my sister, I will have satisfaction…- ", looking at his men who were all trying their best to keep stoic looks on their faces, he pointed at Robb, Luigi and Jacopo. "- Arrest them".

Whether the guards intended to arrest them or not Robb doubted he would ever find out as Saleri chose that moment to introduce himself to the guards, with the aid of a heavy chandelier that knocked the guards out as soon as he (and said chandelier) landed on them. Xero himself joined his underlings, courtesy of the basket hilt of Luigi's cutlass.

"Good work Saleri- ", gazing outside to the position of the sun Luigi smiled slightly. "- It is still early, and we do not set sail until this night, so get out there and see the city, I will deal with this".

Robb swiftly made his way out of the tavern and swiftly split up from the others as he walked through the quite magnificent streets of Quarth. Every way he turned his head, he could spot shops, street vendors, men and women of every kind walking back and forth and haggling over prices. The Quartheen women at the very least were easy to spot as they for some reason wore some sort of dress that left one of their breasts bare, which in turn led to Robb walking around with a constant blush on his face as he tried to avoid googling at the flesh on display. He was quite on edge when all of a sudden a man dressed in wide breeches, a white shirt with puffy sleeves and a leather jacket fell out of a window and landed straight on top of Robb, sending both of them to the ground.

"Ah, thank you. You broke my fall perfectly. I do apologize for the inconvenience", the man said with a smile, and to Robb's surprise his accent sounded as if he was from Westeros, and judging by the relatively fine clothes, and well-trimmed beard he was probably a reachman.

"Get off me!" Robb exclaimed as he angrily pushed the man off of him.

The man grimaced angrily. "If there's one thing I can't abide, it's rudeness," he said sullenly.

"You fell on me!" Robb exclaimed angrily.

"And I apologized for it", the man replied, as if he was innocent in the matter.

"Well your apology is not accepted," Robb said as he tried to show that a simple apology was not enough for his now thoroughly ruined clothes (not only were they now ripped but also smelled of shit and piss).

The man frowned as he narrowed his eyes. "I hope your sword is as quick as your mouth."

"It's quicker," Robb shot back as he returned the glare.

"Ah, a duel then," the man gave Robb a nasty grin that sent a shiver of discomfort through Robb, this wasn't exactly planned.

"A duel," Robb agreed, it was too late to back out now.

The man stood up and swept some dirt from his shoulder. "Meet me at the gates at noon", he said.

"I'll be there," Robb said defiantly.

"As will I," the reachman shot back before disappearing into the crowd.

Robb got to his feet and swept angrily down the street, past a small bazaar and through a small crowd of men and women seated at tables enjoying their meal and drink, when all of a sudden he stumbled to the side as a man brushed roughly past him, knocking him aside with his shoulder and Robb let out a loud "Oupfh", as he crashed into a table, spilling the food and drinks there, some of it into the lap of an olive skinned man dressed in a well-worn leather west, wide colourful trousers, a simple red bandana and a rather extravagant sash around his waist.

"Excuse me!" The man (Dornish by the accent) protested angrily as he stood up and tried to sweep the wine from his clothes. "This sash was a gift to me from the Empress of Volantis."

Robb looked disbelievingly at the dornish rogue. "There's no Empress of Volantis," he tried to explain calmly at to the man.

"I beg to differ, infant. We're on quite intimate terms unless you can prove otherwise," he said with a haughty smirk, that made Robb lose what little remained of his temper.

"Here's my proof," Rob said as he drew his falchion (a gift from Luigi when he joined his crew).

"I see. He thinks he can challenge the mighty Damon with a sword," the man, Damon apparently, said to the amusement of the crowd who broke out into laughter.

"The mighty who?" Robb question, not only did he not know who the man was, but from the man's attitude it would no doubt aggravate him that someone did not know him.

"Don't tell me you've never heard of me," he exclaimed somewhat angrily.

Robb smirked slightly, now that he'd managed to get under Damon's skin. "The world biggest windbag", he mocked.

Robb could have slapped him, if the look on Damon's face was anything to go by. The cocky dornishman sputtered as he tried in vain to find words which could adequately explain his outrage. Eventually he calmed slightly and poked a trembling finger in Robb's chest. "Little pimple, meet me outside the gates at one o'clock and bring a long wooden box."

' _Blast,'_ Robb thought, this was really not shaping up to be his day, still with his courage still somewhat fortified with wine he couldn't let the man have the last word. "Bring your own box", Robb said, before walking off, with the crowd's laughter ringing in his ears.

He had walked for perhaps half an hour before he realized with a sinking feeling that, not only did he not know where the gates were, he did not even know where he was. Deciding that asking for directions was probably the best thing to do he grabbed a passing man by the arm. "Excuse me, is this the way to the gates?"

"No, "the man said as he jerked his arm out of Robb's grip and made to continue on his way.

"Well can you tell me where to go? I need to find the gates quickly," Robb snapped, this really wasn't shaping up to be a good day for him at all.

The man turned his nose up as he gave Robb a haughty sneer. "Well, then I'd say you've got quite the problem".

Robb narrowed his eyes at the rude stranger and angrily grabbed his arm again in a tight grip. "You're not being very helpful."

The blonde man angrily jerked his arm free as he glared at Robb. "You need a lesson in manners boy."

Robb felt his stomach sink, now quite sure where this was heading, still in for a stag, in for a dragon as they said in the north, and he obviously could not let the insult slide, "Anytime, anywhere," Robb replied.

The man nodded sharply, "Then meet me outside the ruins just past the gate two hours past noon if you can find it."

"Oh I'll be there," Robb snarled as the stranger left him.

"Huh, three duels in one day", Robb said disbelievingly to himself as he continued walking, trying to find the way to the gates.

It was nearing noon when he bumped into Jacopo who grinned widely at spotting him.

"Zatarra, how good to see you," Jacopo said as he made his way over to Robb.

"I need your help Jacopo," Robb said, and then proceeded to explain the situation to Jacopo whose smile grew wider by the second. "It's not funny," Robb growled as Jacopo tried to still his shaking shoulders.

"Only you could get yourself into three duels in the span of a few hours Zatarra," Jacopo laughed as he slapped Robb's back. "Saleri, Luigi," Jacopo shouted as he spotted the slight Lorathi and their captain who quickly hurried over to them, and Robb was forced to stew in anger as Jacopo haltingly retold the story to the amusement of Luigi and Saleri.

"You should be proud Zatarra, - "Luigi said as he led them quickly through the streets, "- not everyone can manage to so thoroughly insult someone that he gets himself into three duels in so short a time."

At last, Robb, Luigi, Jacopo and Saleri walked out through the gates of Qarth towards a small collection of ruins perhaps ten or fifteen minutes away where his first opponent waited. Robb was still dressed in his now rather tatty clothes, while his friends all had hooded capes, his opponent was dressed similarly, his hat removed for the occasion and his hood was not up.

"Your manners have not improved yet. You're late," he said as Robb stepped up.

"You in a hurry to die?" Robb asked as he drew his falchion.

"Here comes the grave diggers now," his opponent said, and to Robb's surprise, his other two opponents both walked out.

"Franklyn, you cannot fight this boy," Damon said.

"Why not?" Franklyn said as he gave Damon a puzzled look.

"Because I'm fighting him," Damon stated.

"Not until one o'clock", Robb interjected.

"I have a duel with him too," his last opponent said with mirth colouring his voice.

"Not until two o'clock," Robb gave as an answer.

Franklin grinned before laughing slightly. "You've got heart boy," he said as he removed his cape along with his two friends, causing Robb to gulp as he spotted all three wearing fine quality plate underneath their capes.

"Yo-you're knights?" Robb asked weakly.

"Is that a problem boy? Do you want out from this arrangement?" Franklin asked as he hefted his sword, while Luigi, Jacopo and Saleri joined Robb.

"No-, "Robb said suddenly as he tightened the grip on his falchion in his right hand, and drew out a long stiletto in his left. His falchion would do little against plate, so he would have to rely on it for defence and hope his stiletto as well as manoeuvrability could do the job. "I am a man of my word-, " looking over at the two others Robb gave a small smile. "I'll be with you two Ser's in a minute."

"Oh he's a feisty little fellow," Damon said.

"Feisty indeed," the last knight, whose name Robb still hadn't learnt said.

Before the duel could start however the guard captain Xero came riding up to them, accompanied by eight other guards.

"Only a fool would try to arrest us twice in one day," Luigi said suddenly, causing the three knights to laugh while Robb shared an amused glance with his fellow ship mates.

"He tried arresting you too?" Franklin asked, amusement clear in his voice.

"You, AL of you are under arrest," Xero said as he pointed his blade against them.

" **A fool** ," Robb, Franklyn and Damon said together before laughing at the situation.

"Now will you come peacefully or do you intend to resist?" Xero asked.

"Now don't be foolish, of course we intend to resist," Damon replied. "Just give us a moment will you?"

Still amused at the absurdity of the situation, Luigi, Robb, Jacopo and Salery bowed their heads together with the three knights to discuss.

"Nine of them, six of us. Hardly seems fair," Damon said.

"Perhaps we should give them a chance to surrender," Luigi said with a grin as he drew two long serrated blades and gave them a twirl.

"Excuse me, but there's seven of us," Robb interjected, while trying to keep his outrage from bleeding though in his voice.

"It's not your fight. You're no knight, and barely more than a boy," Franklyn said.

"I may not be a knight, but I believe I have the heart of one," Robb snarled.

"Warrior," Franklyn said.

"Poet," Damon added.

"You've got a name boy? As well as your companions?" the last knight asked.

"I am Zatarra, with me are Jacopo, Saleri and our captain Luigi."

"Cletus Flowers, Franklyn Flowers and Damon Sand, at your service," the last knight, Cletus said.

"Everyone acquainted yes?" Luigi said, and as the others nodded the four smugglers and three hedge knights swung about with their weapons ready. "Now we are prepared to resist you," Luigi laughed.

"GET THEM!" Xero shouted, only to glance about in confusion before gulping slightly as he spotted his underlings vanish together through the city gates, a large cloud of dust the only evidence left of their previous presence.

"Mark my words Luigi Vampa, you cannot hide forever," he said as he turned his horse around.

"Of course,-" Luigi shouted before a grin stretched across his face, "In the meantime, give my love to your sister."

Xero's scream of rage was lost as Robb and the others laughed.

The duel never took place, instead the three knights, all of them down on their luck lately agreed to join Luigi's crew, at least for the moment, Cletus had even offered to take Robb as a squire for as long as they stayed together, and as Robb relaxed on his hammock as the Salty Wench left Quarth behind, he had to admit to himself that life was good.

 **This scene ran away from me so I figured I'd add it as a standalone. I'm roughly halfdone with the 'proper' chapter, detailing the whole 'war in the east' thing, while also trying to work out a good scene to introduce Jon for the first time, perhaps score him some nookie while I'm at it *grins*. Fortunately I have nothing scheduleded for the next four days so I will be doing a LOT of writing. Now I'm off to jot down a few words for 'Hammer' my mind is in serious need of writing some….unserious crack right now.**

 **PS: IF Jon was to get some nookie while down in the Reach along with the rest of the army that is taking down Oldtown does anyone have a request? I haven't given the faintest thought about who Jon will…take up with, or if he will even marry someone, so if there is any particular girl/woman you'd like Jon to knob do tell me in a review.**

 **As always, R/R**

 **Cheers**

 **Tellie571**


	14. War and Dark Deeds

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

 **AN: Warnings for this chapter: Violence, sex and murder.**

 **Soundtrack listened to: 13** **th** **Warrior OST, Conan the Barbarian OST**

 **Bloodstone, 4** **th** **month 298 AC**

 **Ser Barristan The Bold:**

Ser Barristan nodded approvingly at his Queen as she disarmed Tyene Sand for the third time this day. He was guarding the Queen (and her cousins) while his King and Princess were off to war. The argument that had ensued when the King bid the Queen to stay behind had been legendary, and the mess their rooms were in after the argument had raised more than a few eyebrows, as had their…vigorous peace negotiations after the argument ended.

He grinned slightly as he recalled the time it had happened. Listening to a King and his lover (wife or mistress) enjoying the pleasures of the flesh was hardly a new experience for him, but never had he seen a man, or woman in Daenerys' case so pleased with him/herself when leaving for war.

The King and Princess had set out on their Dragons, while the First Legion in its entirety had boarded ships to set out for Tyrosh. Lord Stannis, (and wasn't that man's defection a surprise), had travelled north at full sail, the Third Legion and a number of prisoners on board, all of them dressed in the heavy bronze armour, spears and large rounded shields of the Legions from Ghiscar, with an additional two Legions, barely out of training to join them from Daeronsport.

Grand Admiral Lucerys, while old was still a consummate general and warrior, and had taken the Fourth, as well as five thousand of the Unsullied south towards Lys, and Barristan knew that Benjen Stark and Aurane Velaryon would lead the Second as well as four thousand of the men Stannis had brought with him down to Myr.

Barristan had voiced objections of course, every single one of the six Legions, two of them barely out of training, almost the entirety of their fleet, most of the experienced Unsullied as well as experienced Knights and men at arms were being deployed. That left Barristan who as the most experienced Kingsguard was given overall command until the King's return with very few men. Three thousand of the Unsullied, many still young and in training. Twenty ships to patrol the Stepstones, half of the Dragonguard, and just shy of eight hundred Knights and perhaps three thousand men at arms, spread between Daeronsport and the Stepstones.

Ser Alliser and Ser Jaremy had also been left behind, to help protect the Queen and the Royal children, while Ser Oswell and Ser Richard went with the King and the Princess.

His worries had been eased somewhat though, as news from Westeros told of how the Usurper was taking his sweet time in taking Oldtown. He had at first attempted to take the city by storm, only to be violently repelled as the Maesters of the citadel unleashed some weapon that exploded in immensely hot and bright flames that left hundreds dead or blinded, and much like wildfire seemed resistant to being put out with water, the bright snow like flakes in the aftermath of the explosion proving almost as horrible as the explosion itself as it drifted on the air and stuck to whomever was unfortunate enough to not get away in time, causing horrible wounds as it ate its way through steel and flesh alike.

So the Usurper had settled in for a long siege instead, and while Lord Hightower had managed to acquire a truly impressive amount of sellswords in addition to his own levies, and rumours that every boy able to hold a sword had been conscripted, it was only a matter of time before the besieging army of over a hundred thousand men would emerge victorious.

Turning his gaze back to the Queen he was forced to admire how well she was with a sword. Despite having given birth just a few moons past the Queen had quickly returned to the sparring field and worked hard to get back in shape, and the results shoved. Clad in leather trousers and a somewhat tight leather vest her bare arms showed strong taut muscles as she held her sword in a forward facing guard. Nymeria Sand jabbed forward with her spear and the Queen expertly diverted the thrust with a flick of her blade and quickly stepped in and delivered a punishing slap to her cousin's face before spinning out of reach again, causing the other two Sand Snakes, Tyene and Sarella to laugh mockingly at their sister's humiliation, and Barristan himself struggled to withhold a chuckle.

His mirth disappeared abruptly however as Nymeria suddenly screamed out in pain as an arrow suddenly pierced her shoulder.

Acting on instincts honed by decades of experience he ran forward and pounced on the Queen, sending both of them to the ground, just as a trio of arrows sailed through the space the Queen had occupied moments before.

Rolling off the queen he leapt to his feet, drawing his blade and running towards where the arrows had come from. "GUARDS! PROTECT YOUR QUEEN", he yelled as he ran towards six men, all of them dressed in chain and leather, four of them holding bows in their hands while the other two already had steel drawn.

Two of the traitors appeared to have some discipline at least as they had already drawn their bows for another attack, the other four seemed somewhat shocked that their attack had failed, and were just now realizing that their death was at hand. Barristan the Bold, the greatest Knight Westeros had seen since the Dragonknight was bearing down on them, and over two score of the men who had watched the sparring session of their Queen had also quickly mobilized.

Less than a minute after the first arrow had flown a dozen men had surrounded the Queen and her cousin in a circle of sharp steel facing outwards, while the rest were at Barristan's heels, eager to administer death at the traitors.

Barristan however didn't care, all that mattered was to get them men who had tried to assassinate his Queen. An arrow flew past his head, and he dimly noticed a panicked gurgle from behind him. Another arrow was flicked away from him with his sword and then he was upon them.

The first man was laid open as Barristan's sword easily carved through leather, flesh and bone, spinning with the attack he blocked the incoming strike from the other man and twisted his sword before jerking it up, sending the assassin's sword into the sky. Sweeping his sword with a deft manoeuvre the assassin's head hit the ground, lunging past the falling corpse he buried his blade into the chest of the archer behind the dead man, hardly noticing his panicked gurgle as he drew a knife with his left hand and planted it into the eye of the archer beside him.

Withdrawing his sword and dagger, he blocked a strike from a falchion from one of the two remaining men and opened his throat with his digger while simultaneously delivering a kick with his plated boot between the legs of the last man who dropped his weapon and fell to the ground where he curled into a ball, and just as the man whose throat he had opened collapsed into a boneless heap he noticed with a glimmer of satisfaction that the sword that had been launched skyward buried itself into the sand behind him.

Giving the crying man on the ground another kick for good measure Barristan started to issue orders. "Take that man to the dungeons in chains, I want him so wrapped up that he won't be able to move a muscle-", pointing to four of the Dragonguard who were attending to the arrow wound of Nymeria Sand he barked, "- You four with me, we are taking Her Grace back to the keep".

He and the four guards were quickly joined by another dozen, forming a protective cordon around the Queen and her cousins with their poleaxes at the ready, the Queen herself along with her cousins all had steel drawn and were shaking with fury.

They hadn't even made it to the keep before bells started tolling, and the island was put into full alert, men had dropped whatever was in their hands and quickly suited up in armour and grabbed their swords. At the gates of the keep they were met by fifty of the Dragonguard as well as a dozen Knights, led by the intimidating form of the Smalljon who carried a monstrosity of an axe that was almost as tall as Barristan.

"What's going on Barristan?" The Smalljon asked.

"Assassins", Barristan spat as he pointed a finger towards the Queen and her cousins.

Spotting his on and off lover who had an arrow buried in her shoulder the Smalljon growled angrily, causing the two reachlander Knights beside him to take a wary step away.

"A few of the soldiers should be bringing the survivor to the dungeons soon, find out what he knows", Barristan said.

A disturbing grin stretched across the Smalljon's face. "Oh I will Ser Barristan, you can count on it".

Satisfied that the Smalljon had the situation under control Barristan and the guards sped their way towards the Royal apartments, hopefully the assassination attempt had been an isolated incident, in any case the children should be safe, Not only was Ser Alliser on guard inside the room, but a full dozen of the Dragonguard stood guard in the corridor outside it as well.

Increased security, which was completely understandable, as not only were the Royal twins there, but both Sarella and Tyene had brought their own children.

Tyene had given birth to a girl who she had named Mariah in respect to the Martell Princes who had wed Daeron the Good. There was little of the King in the girl, her hair and skin was very much like her mother, only the tiny specks of violet in the babe's otherwise sky blue eyes hinted to the dragonblood in her veins.

Sarella's child was very much a child of the King however. Pale skin, a good tuft of silvery white hair and amethyst eyes, Sarella had named the boy Arthur after the Sword of the Morning. She had at first pondered on using the name Daemon after her father's squire (and Tyene's first lover) but a comment about Daemon Blackfyre had made her settle for Arthur instead.

Coming into the corridor of the Royal Quarters Baristan felt his stomach drop. Blood was everywhere, and the corpses of the Dragonguard, as well as a score of other men, some dressed as servants and others in armour lay dead on the floor.

A gasp of denial came from behind him and he was rudely pushed aside by the Queen and her cousins who raced by him. Shaking himself out of his funk he quickly followed them into the apartments proper and headed straight for the nursery. Overtaking the Queen and her cousins he kicked open the door, and very nearly lost his head.

Leaning heavily on the wall stood Ser Alliser Thorne, his armour was rent and soaked in blood. The upper half of his blade was missing, and blood flowed from half a dozen punctures in his armour, still, wounded as he was, his eyes were clear and steady and his broken sword was held by a steady hand, six men as well as the corpse of a woman was bleeding on the floor, while the other wetnurse was trying to calm the four children, all whom were thankfully alive.

Barristan sighed in relief as he lowered his sword, while the young mothers hugged their children and lavished kisses on their brows. The happy moment was interrupted however as Ser Alliser crashed to the floor with a groan, and Barristan, quickly followed by the Queen who had put her children back in their cribs knelt beside him.

"I-I am s-sorry Your Grace", Alliser said before coughing up some blood.

"Do not Ser Alliser", the Queen said as she laid a soft hand on his cheek and wiped away some of the blood. "You saved my children, never be sorry for that".

Alliser coughed some more before nodding thankfully. "Tell the King-tell the King, I did *cough* I did my duty".

"I will make sure that your duty and valour is known by all Ser Alliser, you are a true Knight of the Kingsguard", Ser Barristan said.

"You will always have my thanks Ser Alliser", the Queen added.

"Don't-don't suppose you ha-*cough* have any wine Your Grace?" Alliser said as he tried to muster a grin, though it came out more as a grimace.

Barristan and the Queen both snorted slightly, Alliser 'Always Serious' Thorne, a joker at last. Knowing that it was rude to deny a dying man's last request, Barristan accepted a hipflask from one of the Dragonguard who stood vigil and uncorked it before laying it at Alliser's mouth.

Alliser took three large gulps before spitting out the fourth one. "Shame, here I am *cough* dying and you can't even *cough* get a man some proper wine".

"Only you Ser Alliser could find your sense of humour as the Stranger draws you into his grasp", Rhaenys said fondly while wiping her eyes.

A short laugh burst from Alliser before he seized up in a grimace and then fell silent.

"So passes Ser Alliser Thorne of the Kingsguard", Barristan said as he and the others in the room bowed their heads in respect.

"Your Grace-", Vargo, the Captain of the Dragonguard stepped up as he removed his helmet. "-with your permission I will stand vigil for Ser Alliser this night".

"You may", the Queen said as she closed Alliser's eyes.

The Dragonguard quickly deployed themselves, fifty of them would now garrison the corridor, while another twenty would be in the apartments themselves. Alliser was carried away by six of them, while others started to remove the dead bodies.

Turning to the Queen Barristan almost took a step back. Her face was twisted with rage, and her eyes seemed almost to burn with fiery hatred. "Find out who ordered this Ser Barristan, and if there are more on the island hunt them down and bring them before me in chains".

"It will be done Your Grace", Barristan nodded and headed towards the dungeons, leaving six of the Dragonguard with the Queen for her protection, it was time to make the murderers talk.

 ***L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R**

 **Stannis Baratheon:**

Stannis stood silent as a statue at the top of a large rock while watching the organized chaos around him. In the time it had taken them to reach their point of anchor Stannis had gotten to know the officers under his command well. Field Marshal Ser Daemon Sand, the former commander of the Legions had impressed Stannis the most. Despite his relative youth he had a fine mind for warfare, and got on well enough with the men, but in Stannis opinion (one he had shared with the King) he was a bit too friendly with the men.

The Legionnaires like the dornish Knight, and even respected him somewhat, but unlike Stannis, the bastard did not hold the fear and respect of a superior officer, nor did he have enough experience in the ways of war to truly lead the immense machinery of war that several Legions put together was.

So the King had put Stannis in charge, telling Stannis that it was due to Stannis' superior military knowledge, and Stannis knew it was also a way to test him. Of all the raids that was to be done more or less simultaneously this raid was by far the worst. They would have to kill unarmed men women and children, a brutal act that could (and should) scar the psyche of any man, and test their discipline to the limit. Stannis could respect that. Performing this raid, would not only demonstrate that Stannis was committed to the young King he had sworn fealty to, but it would also test the nerve and discipline of the two newest Legions that even the carnage of a full out battle could not. Distasteful as what would happen this night was, it was also necessary.

Against the dothraki alone perhaps victory could have been met, as most of the Free Cities would probably had joined in on the campaign, and with dragons at the front the dothraki would had been eradicated, but against the Ghiscari Empire as well the fledgling Targaryen Empire would be overmatched, and not for the first time Stannis cursed his Valyrian ancestors.

Thousands of years ago the Valyrian Freehold had fought against the Ghiscari Empire. According to the legends Old Ghis and the surrounding lands had been burnt to a scorched wasteland by an army of over five hundred dragons, and the very land had been salted to prevent anything from ever growing there again. The cities of Slaver's Bay had been folded into the Freehold, and that was where it stopped.

What remained of the Empire of Ghiscar had fled either across land or on ships to found new cities, New Ghis being the most prominent, and as the Doom consumed the Freehold the various pockets of the old slaver Empire had banded together again. A brief setback occurred as the New Empire was almost smashed in its infancy during the Century of Blood after the Doom, but they managed to survive. While the cities in Slaver's Bay had refused to rejoin the Empire it grew steadily and expanded further south and east, conquering several islands in both the Summer Sea and the Jade Sea, even conquering Great and Lesser Moraq as well as establishing small colonies on the southern continent of Sothyros, regardless of how horrible the conditions were in that place, hopefully this time the Empire of Ghiscar would see it's end for good.

Idly noticing Ser Davos step up beside him Stannis let his sharp eyes pierce through the evening gloom, observing nearly fifteen thousand men disembark along the shores of the great lake. It was easy to spot which men were from the Third, as they were far better disciplined and orderly than the Fifth and Sixth, fortunately everything went by in relatively good order, as he had ordered cohorts from the third to strategically deploy in scattered formations instead of wholesale. So while the Fifth and Sixth deployed on the right and left flank respectively elements from the Third deployed with them to help with order and the plan worked.

One and a half hour to deploy almost fifteen thousand men. It was unheard of for such a thing to happen in Westeros, where even forming up an army of ten thousand men could take several hours. He left five hundred men from the Third and additional three hundred from both the Fifth and Sixth to guard the prisoners and their transports while he marched the rest of the Legions towards Vaes Dothrak.

Every cohort knew what to do, as scouts had been sent out days in advance and returned in time for strategy to be laid down. The Third would walk straight through the 'gates', a pair of massive bronze stallions rearing and toughing their front hooves together. The buildings of the dothraki city were for the most part constructed from thatched straw and mud, but there were more than enough wooden buildings away, dismantled from where the Dothraki had found them and then rebuilt in Vaes Dothrak, and even a few stone buildings were there.

The Fifth would attack from the north side of the city while the Sixth would do so from the south. And with the Third from the west, and the mountains to the east, the Dothraki would be trapped, it would be a massacre.

Luck was with them as the moon was obscured, and a large feast was held in the city, the thousands of voices screaming and jeering, the beat of drums and whistling of flutes disguised the steady marching of soldiers.

As they closed in to within a hundred feet of the gates Stannis felt his respect for the dothraki sink markedly. While dothraki customs forbade the spilling of blood or wearing a blade inside of the city, to post only four guards at the gates was madness. Signalling to a couple of his legionnaires he lightly tapped his head twice before pointing at the dothraki by the gates.

A few seconds later four arrows whistled through the air and found their marks. That was all the signal the men of the Third needed, and they quickly used their kits to kindle up hundreds of small fires, before drawing their bows and arrows.

Raising his arm Stannis held for a brief moment before dropping it. For a brief moment the sky seemed to light up as over four thousand burning arrows lit up the darkness of the night, before plunging down. Almost immediately screams of pain, fear and rage pierced the night as burning arrows found their mark in flesh (horse and human alike), or in wood or straw. Raising his arm again the groan of thousands of bows stretching reached his ears before a whoosh if displaced air replaced the sound as he dropped his arm again. This time the notes of panic increased as identical volleys of death came from the north and south, the other two Legions having readied their own bows and fires at Stannis' first volley which was the signal.

Three more times the Legions fired before sheathing their bows and grasping spears and shields and started a slow and steady march forward.

Each of the Legions marched forward in formation, a thousand men wide with interlocking shields and a wall of spears three ranks deep. The remaining men were in a loose formation behind the frontal assault, holding in his hand a sword and a burning torch.

Stannis, as was his way led from the front and his men had barely passed the massive bronze statues before the first dothraki came upon them. Dozens of them ran screaming towards them, armed with anything they could get their hands on, from jewelled candlesticks to rocks or logs, the feared dothraki arakhs were beyond their reach, piled outside the cities and Stannis' men. Drawing bead on a particularly large dothraki whose braid came down to the middle of his back Stannis launched his spear through the air and drew his sword.

Two seconds later the man keeled over, Stannis' spear lodged firmly in his torso, having plunged deep into the point right below where his ribcage met. That seemed to be almost as an unofficial signal as hundreds of men launched their spears and jogged forward in a loose formation, loose enough that a man or two could pass between them, but not so loose that a legionnaire could not easily join together with another again. Ducking beneath a blow Stannis raked his short sword across his foe's belly, and stepped forward towards the next man, while his enemy tried futilely to keep his guts from spilling.

A pair of men advanced on him, their hands holding large wooden clubs. Stannis swayed underneath on blow and stabbed his blade into his gut and twisted before withdrawing the blade, at the same time he used his shield to divert the strike from the left before jabbing it forward. The sharpened edge of the heavy bronze shield smashed into the man's face and caved in the bone, and the man fell to the ground, dead and with a nasty cut on his face.

The screams of another man reached his ears and he turned his head and swung out with his sword, removing the head of the screaming dothraki who had approached him. To his left a dothraki tried to grab and wrestle away the shield of Ser Davos, only to scream in pain as he cut his hands deeply on the sharpened edges. Ser Davos, whose sword was lodged in the chest of a dothraki on the ground smashed his sword up beneath the chin of his foe and withdrew his sword as the man fell backwards, his throat opened and spilling jets of blood.

" _Legionnaires, ADVANCE"_ , Stannis roared in Low Valyrian, and the press of men and death increased as the Legion closed ranks slightly while increasing their marching tempo. Another six men fell under his blade before he reached the man who he had killed with his spear. Sheathing his sword he picked up the spear and jabbed it into the neck of an oncoming screamer.

With remarkable speed the Legions pressed into the city, cutting and stabbing down any who came in their path. Hundreds of buildings and crude huts were already on fire from the earlier volleys, and the third ranks of men as well as the men in loose formation behind them took their time to enter each house, sword and torch in hand. A bloodlust was upon many of the legionnaires, and while distasteful it did help them cut down any who came in their path. Stannis himself, with Ser Davos and a cohort from the Third marched directly towards the centre of the city where a great stone building stood, which housed the Dosh Khaleen.

Field Marshal Daemon Sand and his own cohort met them outside, drenched in blood, and considering the state of Stannis' own men he was sure he was equally drenched. _"Lets do this Marshal General"_ , Daemon said in Low Valyrian and Stannis nodded grimly, before kicking up the doors.

The Dosh Khaleen, a collection of thirty women, ranging from perhaps as young as six-and-ten to old and wrinkled crones were gathered around a large fire pit, swaying back and forth as they chanted desperately in their course language and Stannis gnashed his teeth slightly before he, and the rest of his men stepped forth and buried their weapons in their flesh.

 ***L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R***

It was in the early hours of the morning that The army started to move up river again. The raid had been a bigger success than he'd counted on. A bit over a thousand men had lost their lives in the frantic fighting, while they had laid low at least twenty times that number. As the King had instructed, the pirate prisoners they had brought with them, as well as the corpses of their fallen had been left for dead in the streets, every house and hut had been burnt to cinders, the stone buildings had been toppled, and the two immense bronze statues had fallen to the ground and melted down in a massive bonfire. Their boats, rafts and canoes, as well as the pocket of every man had been filled with valuables, and on Stannis' orders any slave they had found chained up, as well as, as many children he had been able to save from the destruction had been brought with them.

Not exactly as the King had commanded, but Stannis preferred to take the risk, rather than to have the death of babes and children on his conscience if he could avoid it. The venture back to the fleet took a lot longer time of course, as their transports were even more weighed down than they'd been at the journey down, and Stannis thanked Davos for his idea of bringing extra rafts and boats with them, knowing that they'd pick up lots of riches at the end of it all.

But most of all Stannis was thankful that they had managed to leave before dawn truly came upon them, sparing the men at least some of the true scale of the destruction they'd wrought, he only hoped that the King and the other armies would have as great success as he had with their own raids.

 ***L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R**

 **Tyrosh,**

 **Daenerys:**

Daenerys flexed her thighs and her dragon Rhaelle veered slightly to the left, narrowly avoiding a shower of arrows and Dany drew back on the bowstring and launched forth another arrow from her bow and mentally marked off another kill to her list as the man she had aimed at pitched back as the sharp arrow punched through his ribs and into his lung.

Like Daeron she was mounted on a dragon and flying relatively low above the city of Tyrosh. While this placed her in danger as she was within bow range, it did allow her a better vantage point, allowing her to not only fire arrows back, but also direct her she dragon to spew forth death in the shape of dragonfire.

Sending another arrow into the panicking defenders below her she noted from her position that the legionnaires and armed slave militia was struggling a few streets to her left, and with another strong flex of her thigh muscles she steered Rhaelle towards the cluster of sellswords and city guards who were holding a crossroad junction in the city, aided by a hastily made barricade of wagons and barrels.

Drawing back her arm again she took aim even as her dragon veered around at a sharp angle and expertly loosed the arrow towards the guard who seemed to be in charge (if his plumed helmet was anything to go by), and sure enough the man slumped forward as the arrow lodged itself into his back just left of his spine.

As she fetched for another arrow she once again thanked Daeron for his insistence on practicing various forms of combat, both on foot or mounted on a dragon. The Kingsguard had hones her skills with a blade. While she was far from as skilled a swordsfighter as Daeron (or Rhaenys) she was more than capable with a blade, but her skills with a bow was better than both of her lovers. Her sharp gaze helped her at that aspect, and she had spent countless hours practicing her archery from atop her dragon, at many different angles.

As Rhaelle finished her sharp turn the men below screamed in fear and pointed their bows up but it was too late. "Dracarys", Dany spoke and a shower of white-golden flames burst from the she dragon's mouth and bathed the makeshift barricade and the throng of men beneath her and up the street and Dany closed her eyes and spread her arms as she let the satisfying sensation of wind and heat course through her, even as the screams of dying men chased her. Turning back for another run Dany saw that there was no more need for her at that particular juncture. What had lasted no more than a few seconds had turned a hundred yard stretch of cobblestone street into an infernal deathtrap, hundreds of bodies lay either silent or twisting and turning in agonizing pain…it was glorious.

Truly, beside sex there was no greater feeling than to deliver death and doom from the back of a dragon, and even as the fire in her dragonblood started to cloud her senses Dany could understand why Daeron had warned her about the power in her blood. She tried to keep a level head, really, she did, but it was useless. She was the Blood of Old Valyria, the blood of dragons ran through her veins, and she could no more resist her instincts than an animal, like her niece, nephew and the very dragon upon which she was mounted, blood and fire was part of her, and in the heat of war she like the rest of her kin was at her most potent state of being.

Spotting a trio of men working on a scorpion atop a manse she snarled and let her fury guide he as she flung out her hand, a glowing ball of eldritch flame sped towards the unwitting fools who were taking aim at her nephew. As soon as the hand sized ball of flame impacted on the war machine it detonated, and the three men, the machine and even the roof of the manse itself disappeared in a violent conflagration of amethyst flames. Grinning Dany turned Rhaelle back towards the centre of the city in search of new targets.

 ***L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R**

 **Tyrosh.**

 **Daeron:**

Daeron himself was almost as lost as Dany was, his blood sang in joy and he laughed as he and Caraxes nimbly avoided arrow fire and scorpion bolts alike, returning fire with spells or dragonflame. Even though his senses were awash with fury, his mind was cold and focused as he drowned out all external distractions with the Void and the Flame, a relatively new way of focusing, not only his occlumency, but he also found himself much closer to the wellspring of magic that flowed through his blood and soul, and once he seized it properly he marvelled each and every time at the roaring force of nature that magic truly was.

Proof perhaps as to why magicians had created wands. Wands made magic…perhaps not easy, but certainly more docile and refined, it was very rare indeed that a witch or wizard used more magic than what was safe, not so when he drew upon magic now. It was a roaring lake of storms and fire, a violent beast to be grabbed by the scruff of its neck and forced to obey, but the power…

It was unlike anything he had ever felt before, his senses sharpened, his strength multiplied, and the powers of creation was at his fingertips, perhaps this was how wizards like Voldemort or Dumbledore felt, and for the first time in his life (either of them) he understood both men. Power was more tempting…and dangerous than one could possibly imagine.

Spotting guards and sellswords fleeing back to the Archon's palace which, alongside the large manses of the six wealthiest men in Tyrosh stood inside an 'inner city', protected by walls black fused dragonstone, capable of withstanding the harshest of dragonfire, and the heavy gates themselves would be hard to break, so Daeron sank deep into the Void and Flame again and drew forth a fount of magic within him, much stronger and larger than anything he had ever tried before and launched it forth towards the mighty gatehouse with but one intent: **'destroy'**. The smooth seamless stone of the gatehouse, the massive iron doors, the portcullis and parts of the wall on both side of the gatehouse flew in all directions in chunks, as if it had been a miniature of ice that was smashed by the club of a giant, and cheers sounded in the city as legionnaires and a veritable horde of slaves desperate for freedom poured through the breach, meeting the assembled defenders with steel or bare fists.

The attack had cost him though. He felt faint, his head pounded like a drum, and he dimly noted that blood had pooled in his mouth. His pain was left behind however as he saw something that made his heart stop. Dany had flown low over the enemy line to rake them with dragonfire when a quarrel from a scorpion had taken Rhaelle in the side and sent the mighty dragon, and her rider smashing to the ground in the midst of the enemy.

Barely taking notice of what he was doing Daeron loosed himself from his saddle and apparated into the middle of the carnage. "LEGIONS OF THE DRAGON! PROTECT YOUR PRINCESS!" Daeron shouted as he drew Blackfyre and swung it in a heavy arch, shearing through a pair of men with easy, the ensorcelled blade, aided by his magically enhanced strength provided no resistance whatsoever.

The sellswords around him took a step back, not only at the sudden emergence of what appeared to be a steel clad demon in black, but also how easily he had dispatched two armoured men. Daeron grinned nastily beneath his dragon helm and slowly ran a hand alongside his blade, leaving a trace of burning heat as violet flames sprang to life, heat so strong that the men closest to him instinctually took a step back.

Behind him Dany groaned slightly, proving that the fall had not killed her at least, and Rhaelle's furious roar and sudden blast of flame that lit up several of the sellswords that surrounded them gave evidence that the she dragon was far from defeated.

One of the sellswords, a native going by his green forked beard lunged forward, in his hand an axe and a shield and he appeared to want to be the one to try and kill the Dragon King. He did not even have time to be disappointed…or realize that something was wrong as Daeron had, with one mighty swing cleft him from head to groin and he continued his charge to a spot just behind Daeron, one half going by Daeron on each side.

Laughing at the looks of shock on the faces of the men before him Daeron gathered his magic for a second attack, pushing back the feelings of discomfort and launching it forth in a concussive wave that knocked a good dozen onto their backs or to their knees, and seizing the moment he charged them.

Blackfyre, trailing violent flame bit through flesh and steel alike as Daeron swung the ancient blade in punishing blows and vicious thrusts, severing limbs or head. With one thrust he impaled two persons at once on the length of the blade, pushing Blackfyre through the belly of one man and into the chest of the man behind him. A hard yank to the left let him block the strike of another sellsword who collapsed to his knees as Daeron used his foot to smash the sellsword in the knee, before another kick shattered every rib in the hapless mercenary's chest.

Sensing a trio of men come up behind him Daeron spun around and swept Blackfyre in a low sideways arch that opened the bellies and spilled the guts of the three men. An overhead swing cut another man's life short (and left him in to parts). He turned the momentum of the swing to a one handed swipe behind him to his right that left a sellsword without a head. A searing pain burst through his left side as the breath was knocked out of him by a man who had come up on his left and smashed his axe against Daeron's side. Fortunately the armour did it's job well enough, and made sure that beyond a big bruise he would be fine.

Still the heavy strike had broken his focus somewhat to the point where he lost his grip on Bluckfyre (embedded in another man's chest) and so he grabbed the man who had struck him by the head and yanked violently, breaking his neck with a sickening 'SNAP'. Ducking under another blow Daron took up the man's axe, a rather simple bearded axe with a long wooden grip. He grabbed the axe with both hands and blocked the strike from the man in front of him and delivered an armoured kick to the man's groin before hefting the axe over his head and smashing it down, breaking through the feeble man's skull and embedding it in his brains.

Daeron turned back to the now dead man who was currently on fire due to the burning Blackfyre buried in his chest. A man, his eyes shining with greed at the presence of a Valyrian steel blade stretched out a hand towards the hilt, and Daeron roared in anger, no filthy slaving sellsword was allowed to touch his blade, and as he drove his closed left fist into the man's back he gave a grim smile as the man's spine snapped audibly and he feel screaming in pain to the ground.

Withdrawing Blackfyre from the corpse Daeron noticed an arrow fly by him, and from the pained scream behind him he knew the arrow had found its target. Following the trajectory of the arrow he spotted Dany atop her dragon, already sending forth another. A wide circle had formed around Dany, Daeron and Rhaelle. No one wanted to step close to any of the dragons, one of them a big white scaly monster, the other two clad in chain and plate, and dealing out death with cold steel and magic alike. What little resistance remained with the sellswords ended once Caraxes returned, and lit three of the extravagant manses in the courtyard on fire, before utterly demolishing a forth as he tucked in his wings and slammed down onto the roof, collapsing the building and stalking out of it. And as more and more legionnaires and now free slaves alike stepped into the city it became clear, they'd won.

Tearing his helmet off and putting his crown back on his head Daeron walked over to Dany and hungrily grabbed her and forced his mouth onto hers. She responed favourably by grabbing his hair in a tight grip as she did her best to use her tongue to force his own into submission, all while soldiers and claves alike cheered at their victory…life was good.

 ***L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R**

 **Oldtown:**

 **Jon Snow:**

Jon nervously checked to see that the sword at his side sat easily at its scabbard, it would not do for the blade to get stuck if her had to draw it quickly. Any moment now he along with other northmen would sally forth through one of the breaches in the wall. At the start of their journey south both he and Robb had been so excited, since the time that they were young boys they had played at war, taking to role of Kings, Knights and Lords, talked of the honour and glory to be found in battle…it was all a lie.

Robb's ship and several others had been lost in a storm, and while father had done his best to console Jon, he could see that his father didn't believe his own words more than Jon did. They had met up with the King's army a few leagues north of Oldtown, and Jon (due to his father being the best friend of the King) had been permitted to meet with Robert Baratheon…he was unimpressed to say the least.

The king was red faced, fat and the massive black beard he sported barely hid the many chins he sported, and he was constantly drunk (at least it seemed that way to Jon). Jon of course had been exluded from the King's war council, Father leading him to Lady Maege, the she-bear of Bear Island and left him under her command.

The northmen were the last ones to show up apparently, and soon enough the entire army, well over a hundred thousand strong had started on the march to Oldtown. Ladders and siege towers had already been constructed by the vanguard and thousands of horns and banging of drums had sent the army screaming towards the walls.

Jon, acting on his father's advice (and orders) stuck close to Lady Maege and her daughter Dacey. The northmen and the men from the Westerlands seemed to be the smartest of the lot as they didn't charge recklessly at the walls, but rather advanced in relative good formation, shields raised in case the defenders would loosen volleys of arrows at them, they didn't though, they did worse.

Something that at first seemed like firepots were launched by the aid of catapults from behind the walls and landed deep in the formations of the Royal army where they exploded with spectacular force all along the line. Men closest to the massive explosions that were not consumed in the burning inferno were blasted to the ground, where the rolled about and screamed in pain, or wheezed for breath as a veritable fog of white burning hot flakes snowed over them, burning through steel and flesh alike.

Many men were almost blinded at the bright lights, even Jon, who was far from the closest detonation briefly saw stars. Another volley halted the attack entirely, as levies and Knights alike scrambled back in terror. A few men like Jon, his sibling's uncle Ser Edmure Tully and Lord Beric Dondarrion from Blackhaven bravely advanced forth to drag back the wounded men, while doing their best to shake off any of the white flakes before they could burn through armour or flesh.

Jon had worked together with five other northmen, a pair of men from Seaguard and a Lanny from Lannisport, and had managed to drag away perhaps a hundred men from the battlefield towards the safety of the camp, where healers did what they could.

It wasn't until his father had put a stop to any more attempts (the sounds of the wounded and dying on the field had stopped entirely) that his injuries made their presence known. The left side of his face burnt with pain, and his left hand was red and bloody where some of the white stuff had burnt through his leather glove. Dacey had taken one look at him and shaken her head before leading him to the closest healer, who washed his face and hand with water. His face had two burn scars, one running down perhaps an inch and a half beside his left eye, while another scar decorated the left side of his forehead, though from what the healer said it should heal quickly, leaving nothing more than a pair of scars. He was also fortunate that his hand looked far worse than what it was, the topmost layer of skin on his hand had been burnt away, and exposed some of the flesh underneath, but as long as he med sure to rinse his hand in clean water and change bandages often he should get away with nothing more than a faint scar.

The rest of the day he had sat numbly with Dacey Mormont and Asher Forrester. No words were spoken, there were no words to be spoken. All of them had their innocence lost that day. Dacey at least was not a stranger to death as Bear Island had been attacked more than once, both by wildlings and Ironborn, but she had never seen death on a scale as what they had today.

Two volleys, two serious of the maester's strange weapon had left near ten thousand men dead, with another seven wounded, many of them badly, some of the wounded had been men such as himself who had bravely gone into the deadly snow of burning flakes to drag out their fellow man, war, Jon decided was not glorious nor honourable. War was hell.

Any thoughts of another attack had been stopped as the King and his advisors had sought out a new battleplan, and after a night of arguing back and forth a plan had been settled on. Trenches were started upon as Tywin Lannister sent four hundred riders back to the Westerlands to bring with them as many miners as could be found. The plan was to mine the city walls and collapse them, forcing several breaches where men could establish a foothold, this would take months as not only would they have to dig several tunnels, but also reinforce them to ensure they didn't collapse, but they couldn't start until Tywin's men had returned from the Westerlands either, so Jon and the others fell into an easy routine.

Every day he would spend a few hours digging trenches, latrine pits, or gathering wood. After that he would practice his swordsmanship, already he was building something of a reputation in camp as his quick and nimble swordsmanship defeated one Knight after another, several people whispering behind his back, and he caught the name Ser Arthur Dayne or Ashara Dayne more than once in snippets of conversation, conversation that would stop as soon as he was spotted.

Thrice he had dined at the King's table, and once the King caught wind of his feats in the sword ring he had almost dragged him outside to test his skills first hand. Jon had been given a nasty surprise. The king, may look like a mountain of fat, but his strength was still formidable, and even though Jon landed six hits for every one of the King's the return hits from Robert's Warhammer was enough to cause his entire body to shake as he stopped this hits with his shield. He had lasted an impressive three minutes before he collapsed with exhaustion, while the King stood above him laughing as if he hadn't done so in years, with a bloody mouth and a black eye.

"By the Gods Ned, you've got a fine boy there, not only fucking good with a sword, but as dirty a fighter as I've ever seen".

Jon had blushed slightly at that, when it became apparent that he couldn't beat the King with his sword alone he had easily switched fighting style, delivering kicks and punches (one such punch was the reason for the King's black eye) and he had even struck the King on the chin with the pommel of his sword, cutting the Stag King's lip in the process.

"He has been taught well", Father said flatly, causing King Robert to laugh again.

"I'll see you back here tomorrow lad", the King had laughed before walking off to one of the tents in camp, no doubt to partake in drinking and the swapping of boasts and warstories.

Jon for his part was so exhausted that he barely noticed as Dacey and Theon of all people slung his arms over their shoulders and led him to his tent. Putting him down on his bed Dacey handed him a pitcher of wine while Theon shuffled unsteadily at the entrance to the tent, and his father's Greyjoy ward had changed quite a lot.

His once relatively handsome face was now a mess of angry red flesh, most of his hair was gone, and his left arm was still wrapped in bandages.

"What are you doing here Theon?" Jon had asked the Greyjoy warily.

Theon held his silence for a moment as he fought to find the right words. "I've come to thank you, and to apologize".

Surprise flitted across Jon's face, that was the last thing he had expected.

"You saved my life. You dragged me out of there, when everyone else left me for dead…you came back, even after all the shit I've done and said about you".

It was true, Theon had treated him like shit ever since he came with Father to Winterfell after the Greyjoy Rebellion. He had never been physically violent towards Jon (Jon's skill with a sword being a big reason why) but he had a wicked tongue, and did just as good, if not a better job than Lady Stark to remind Jon that he was a bastard with no place in the world.

"It was the decent thing to do", Jon said softly. He may not like Theon, but there is no honour in leaving a wounded man behind when you can save him, regardless of how you feel.

"You're a good man Jon Snow", Theon said as he extended his right hand.

Jon stared at the hand for a moment, before deciding to give the Greyjoy a chance. "You're a good man too Greyjoy…well, whenever you're not whoring I suppose", he finished with a grin.

Theon looked surprised for a second before walking away laughing.

"You were impressive today Jon", Dacey said, before to Jon's shock she grabbed him by his curly hair and kissed him hard before walking away, and unless Jon's eyes were fooling him (not unreasonable in his current state of shock) her hips had a little extra sway in them, not that he was looking of course.

And so started the most confusing moment of Jon's life. He had heard rumours from many folk about how the relationship between his father and the King had chilled over the years after the King learnt of the presence of his Targaryen cousin (and boy was that ever a big surprise and shock to discover), but whatever bad blood existed between his father and the King it did not seem to extend to Jon.

His father could not exactly order Jon to stay away from the King, who not only insisted his presence more and more, but also forced him into the practice ring every day, and what's more, the King seemed eager to get back into fighting shape (and from how fast he was losing fat and gaining muscle it was going well). The blasted King had however decided that if he had to suffer from not only hard exercise but also less wine, then 'Gods be damned, Ned's son is gonna suffer the same' he had laughed as he forced Jon along, and even if he had any usable excuse to avoid it, he was a bastard and not in any position to deny a King.

Jon had always been proud that he alone of all his father's sons had the northern look in him, but now he wondered if it wasn't a curse. The King acted as if Jon was his old friend only younger, and gleefully forced Jon to work his way through whatever exercise the King had decided on that day, dragging him into grand pavilions to try and get him drunk as a kite, fortunately, even though the King was reducing his intake of wine he still drank more than enough that Jon could discretely pour away some of the wine and ale the King forced on him at least.

Of course, no day would be complete without the King beating Jon black and blue in the sword ring, and when night closed in the King sent Jon back to his tent with a laugh and a command to 'get himself a wench soon'.

Not all was bad of course, he got to know many Lords and Knights who any other day wouldn't even have acknowledged his existence, and not only did his body get in much better shape, but his skills with the sword increased exponentially as he adapted to try and keep up with an ever increasingly vigorous Robert, whose rapid change of shape and form left many men in wonder, and for probably the first time in almost a decade people could see him for the King he had once been. The man who had beaten Rhaegar on the Trident, the man who won three victories in a day near Summerhall.

And then there was the downside. His…strange friendship with the King, his (in the words of many a Knight or Lord) remarkable swordsmanship and (according to Dacey and other women in camp) rather dishy physique got him a lot of unwanted attention from girls. Not that Jon didn't like girls, he was as a matter of fact rather fond of good looking girls, but he was all too well of his status as a bastard, and had no desire what so ever to let a child grow up with nothing to his or her name due to him, his nervousness was all the higher after one evening where King Robert had succeeded in making him much drunker than he usually did, and practically forced Jon into one of the tents that contained some of the whores who had settled down in the camp (thousands of men on war footing with nothing to do all day but dig or fight was a big chance for earning gold).

From what little he could remember it was good…very good actually, he hadn't lasted long at first, and had spent minutes stuttering apologies, but the whore (a beautiful woman with long dark hair) had simply waved off his apologies with a laugh and gone back to work (this time with her mouth), apparently the King had paid more than enough for her to keep him…busy for the rest of the night and he had soon enough learnt the ways of pleasure.

The fact that just about anyone he met (male or female) had been embarrassing enough, but some of the bolder women had apparently found the fact that he was…experienced as an attractive trait, rather than a negative one, and he found himself refusing their advances more and more often.

At least his tentative friendship with Theon had started to work out. Jon kept mum about Theon's whoring, and Theon refrained from bothering Jon about his bastard status, and many nights (deep in their cups as they were) they discovered they had many things in common. They both liked dark haired girls with a little fight in them (Jon increasingly…risqué) dreams about Dacey Mormont was proof enough about that. They both felt like outsiders in Winterfell, and hungered for acceptance, both from his father, but also from Lady Stark and Jon's siblings, they shared a like for archery and discovered that they both had a fondness for bad japes.

Eventually the tunnels were finished and fires had been started in each one and the army had formed up for a new assault, and this time they had a long line of catapults that had already started to throw stones or fire pots into the city. It seemed like an eternity until suddenly six breaches in the walls formed as massive piles of stone collapsed. Jon had been given the dubious honour by the King to lead the foray into one of the breaches, according to the King there was much honour to be had in such an action, while his father had grabbed him close in a hug and told him to be careful.

A charge as this was known by most as the Forlorn Hope, as they would form a spearhead in the breach, holding the enemy at bay long enough for the main force to reinforce them and start the attack proper. The reason it was called the Forlorn Hope was that most of the initial chargers would lose their lives in the process, and Jon was not eager to die, but he would do his duty.

His party was a mix of northmen and valemen, many of them armoured in full plate, Jon had foregone some of it, preferring to forego a helmet in order to have his senses at peak efficiency. A shirt of mail with a steel cuirass protected his torso, while his arms were armoured in chain and a pair of steel vambraces, his feet were clad in protective leather, while his left hand hefted an ironwood shield with a steel boss and ringed with steel, and at the suggestion of Lady Maege he kept his sword easily available at his side, while his right hand held a flanged mace, as according to her the intial fighting would be not only brutal but close and thick with little room for manoeuvring, and a mace would be better in that situation.

Looking back at the som six hundred men (and woman as Dacey was quick to remind him of) he raised his mace slightly. "Right men, let's TAKE THIS CITY", he finished with a yell, and still under the cover of the catapults he charged forward towards the breach, his shield held in front of him and the steel mace in his hand ready to do its bloody work.

Six hundred voices shouted alongside with him, and as the party charged forward they screamed their throats hoarse, not only to give themselves some semblance of courage, but also to attempt to still their fears.

A rain of arrows came towards them and Jon raised his shield up as he continued running. Men screamed in shock or pain all around him as an arrow found its mark and he felt as though his heart was in his chest. He had already reached the rubble that formed the edge of the breach and leapt up it. Another dull bloom, and a flash of light behind him told him that the Maester's had unleashed their weapon again.

At the top of the breach a thick line of men stood, holding an assortment of weapons in their hands, and Jon threw himself against them with a vengeance. His shield clashed against one of the men before him while the mace in his hand slammed down with all the force he could muster and grotesquely reduced the face of a young man even younger than Jon to a bloody pulp and the young man barely more than a boy collapsed into a boneless heap.

Jon felt his breath almost get punched out of his as men pushed in beside and behind him as his fellow northmen and Knights of the Vale joined the fray. For what seemed like an eternity the two sides pushed back and forth, their shields held high while battering away with their weapons at whatever part of the enemy they could reach but eventually the enemy started to break. Besieged for over three months, two of them also from the sea, the garrison of the city had slowly started to starve as less and less food or clean water became available, as a result the garrison was hardly in as good shape as the attackers, and it showed.

I started slowly, first one man broke away, then two more, until, like the water breaking through a dam, the line bucked and collapsed as the tired, starved and frightened reachmen broke ranks and fleed.

It was all Jon needed, over half of his men were dead, his left eye was half blinded by blood from a cut across his brow and cheek that had thankfully not damaged the eye itself, and his arm felt as if it was made of jelly after all the swinging and smashing he had done with his mace. The steel instrument of death that he still gripped as if his life depended on it was covered with blood.

"THEON-", he shouted. "-Take some archers up the wall", he pointed to the top of the wall, easily accessed by the stairs just a few feet beside the breach. "The rest of you men with me, we need to move further in and secure the breach, form a proper shieldwall, and hold your ground".

The tired attackers, rejuvenated somewhat in spirit at least after their small victory stepped forward in ranks three men deep, with their shields held in defensive positions as they moved into the city. Soon enough Theon and his few fellow archers started to loose arrows at whatever targets they could spot, while the prong of the main army that would head for Jon's breach soon caught up with them and moved into the city, while Jon and the surviving men from his party could catch a well deserved breather. That was the reward of the forlorn hope, after securing the breach they would not only get a reprieve from the remaining battle, but as the path into the city had been won with their blood and lives they were entitled to one tenth of the loot of ever man (shared evenly between the survivors of course), so a man participating in many such actions could find himself quite rich, should he survive.

Still the battle for Jon's part was over for now, and as his heart calmed his trembling hand dropped the mace and his senses returned suddenly. The stench of death was overwhelming, terrified men (and boys even) had pissed and shit themselves in fear as their lifeblood left them, broken and rent corpses lay all around him, both northmen, valemen and reachmen hat been turned into bloody unrecognisable husks in the grinder that was the breach, and from what he could see and feel he was as drenched in blood as Dacey, Asher or Ser Wylis.

He tried twice to find some words, something to explain or justify the carnage around him, but all he ended up doing was to vomit all over the bloody ground as the carnage of the day caught up with him, and he barely noticed as Ser Wylis stepped up to him and slapped his back a few times.

After he had managed to steel himself somewhat he took a deep gulp of his waterskin, before upending the rest of it to try and clear the blood off of his face. He and his men eventually made their way up on the walls, mostly to escape from the bloody ruin that was the breach, but also to sit down with Theon and the rest of the lads, also they had a great vantage point there.

They could see how the army forced its way through the city, violently ending all resistance, the remains of the Royal Fleet had entered the harbour and boarded (and sunk) the ships of the sellswords and merchants alike that lay at anchor. A few had decided to turn the catapults and the strange fire pots of the Maesters against the Citadel, and jeers and cheers alike sounded from the soldiers as explosion after explosion took its toll on the Citadel, until one of the pots must have hit an arsenal of its like or something as the entire Citadel, with the exception of the great dome building on the Isle of Ravens went up in a massive conflagration of white and green flames, and the whispers of 'wildfyre' told Jon that the Maesters must have had cashes of wildfire as well as pots of the white exploding material stashed.

Once the fires died down, silence reigned throughout the city as all eyes gazed in horror at the Citadel (or the remains of it). What few buildings remained were charred and malformed, partially melted from the great heat. A few moments later the huge banners of House Hightower were removed from their massive tower and Lord Leyton Hightower along with his family and closest retainers walked out, defeated and knelt before the King, the Battle for Oldtown had been won.

Exactly what would happen to the Hightowers would be decided at a later date, and the victorious army swiftly scattered through the city, flocking to the inns and taverns in search of food, drink and women. Jon himself had found a place in one of the nicer establishments and was soon joined by others, the euphoria of a battle wom, strengthened by alcohol soon raised everybody's spirits and it was close to morning before Jon ventured up to the second floor in search of a bed. No sooner had he undressed before the door opened and closed again behind him, and as he turned he spotted Dacey who was already in the process of removing her own garments.

With his mind clouded somewhat from the wine he had consumed Jon stared enraptured for a moment as Dacey stripped herself naked, gulping as her body was revealed. Wide alluring hips, full perfect teats, and a well-trimmed triangle of dark hair above her mound, she smirked slightly at him before sauntering up to him and grabbed him for a kiss. He moaned slightly as she invaded his mouth with her tongue, and he unconsciously fisted his hands in her dark tresses while pushing her down on the bed.

A sudden moment of clarity pierced his lust and alcohol addled mind and he withdrew slightly as he tried to protest. "We shouldn't do this", he muttered while nipping at her ear.

He yelped slightly as Dacey grabbed his hair harshly to bring his face and mouth back to her own. "Shut up and fuck me", she grinned before going back to battle with his mouth, and as he lost himself in the fierce she-bear from Bear Island, Jon decided that maybe the life of a bastard wasn't so bad after all.

 ***L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R**

 **Tyrosh, a few days after the assault.**

 **Daeron**

The assault had been a huge success. Tyrosh was theirs, and with the use of the glass candle he had brought with he could also spot the Targaryen banner fluttering above Lys and Myr. The Archon of Tyrosh had been found shivering fearfully in his wardrobe, his guards having put down their blades to save their own lives. Every man in Tyrosh who had been the owner of a slave (many of them owned several) had been dragged before a makeshift court in the inner 'plaza' of the city, where their former slaves had testified against them while Daeron and Dany sat in judgement.

A few slaves had tried to lie, to paint their masters in a far worse light and pin crimes on them that they had not been guilty of, there were few of these instances however as Daeron, through the use of legilimency discovered the truth of whether a man was lying or not, and the slaves who lied were themselves punished harshly.

The men who had treated their slaves relatively well would be put into forced labour (under good conditions) ranging from a period of three to ten years, while those who had mistreated their slaves, (or denied having owned, or captured slaves) would have the word slaver branded with hot irons onto their forehead, and would as soon as the fleet was reassembled be shipped off in chains to the wall. Their manses and fortunes (many of said manses nothing more than burnt out husks) would be confiscated, their wealth divided between their former slaves (along with a small portion to the crown naturally).

In the end, Daeron would most likely become a very popular man with the watch, as almost five thousand men would be shipped off, and he would also send a thousand Unsullied (if he got any volunteers from them) along to not only act as a guard for them, but also remain in service to the watch until the Lord Commander was sure he could handle the large influx of new people.

After the last of the trials had been done with a lavish feast had been held in the Archon's palace, with exotic food and fruits from all over the world on offer. Drink of any kind was served, while exotic dancers and former pleasure slaves entertained the men, and as Daeron got deeper into his cups he found his eyes wandering more often than not, particularly when the serving girls saddled up close to him to stroke him sensually or try to feed him grapes while bending forward to expose their breasts through their nearly transparent tops, that is until Daenerys had enough.

Already irritable at the fact that her dragon was wounded, her mood had grown steadily darker during the feast as Daeron's resistance had started to vane as his consumption of different kinds of wine increased, until she had enough. Angrily standing up she had shooed away the whoring serving slatterns and roughly grabbed her lover by his thick braid and led him towards the chambers they shared, ignoring his heated protests and smirking as jeers followed them. Ser Oswell and Ser Richard at the least had the decency to keep silent, although Daron longed to wipe their smug grins from their faces as he was manhandled by Dany who was not only surprisingly strong, but also far more steady on her feet. Slamming open the door to their bedchambers Dany turned and smiled slightly at the two Kingsguard. "I think we will prefer some privacy for the remainder of the night".

Ser Richard snorted slightly, while Oswell managed to remain serious enough to reply with a calm "Of course Your Grace", though the infernal twitching at the corner of his mouth betrayed his emotions.

Slamming the door shut Daenerys stalked up to him and he gulped slightly, she did not look happy. Before he could say a word in his defence he heard a loud 'SMACK', and briefly saw stars as a burning pain blossomed in his cheek.

"Dany what the!" 'SMACK' again she delivered a slap, this time to the right side of his face and suddenly she had closed the distance between them and once again had his hair in a tight grip, where the slightest twitch of her hand could cause him to yelp in pain.

"Do you think me blind nephew?" she snarled. "Do you think I did not see how you not only let those slatterns drape themselves all over you, but actually encourage their advances?"

Daron tried to protest, she was right of course, but he didn't want to admit that fact, yet his protests ceased as she yanked hard again and he almost stood up on his toes to relieve the pressure on the roots of his hair.

"Do not lie to me nephew", she hissed as she boldly placed her hand on the front of his trousers to grasp him, causing him to groan slightly. "You're already hard, and I saw more than one of their whores with their hands down your breeches".

"But I!" he tried to interrupt only for Dany to lay a finger on his lips, at least she loosened her grip on his hair a little.

"Just because Rhaenys and I let you bed Tyene and Sarella does not mean we will let you rut with any girl like a bitch in heat…is that clear nephew? You are ours".

Daeron nodded surly, not at all pleased at suffering this particular defeat.

" **Say it** ", Dany barked suddenly at him as she pushed hard on his shoulders.

Sighing slightly as he spotted a slight glimmer of mischief in her eyes, of course she wanted to be playful all of a sudden. Admitting defeat, he fell to his knees before her and looked up into her eyes while she stroked him across the cheek with a comforting hand. "I am yours, my love".

Smirking slightly, she let her dress fall of her shoulders and pool at her feet. "Show me", she said with a sultry tone to her voice as her voice darkened over with lust and she spread her legs slightly, revealing her glistening lips.

 ***L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R**

 **LEMON, DO NOT READ IF THIS OFFENDS YOU. I REPEAT, DO NOT READ IF EXPLICIT DESCRIPTIONS OF SEXUAL ACTS OFFENDS YOU.**

 ***L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R**

He grabbed the cheeks of her arse in his hands and kneaded the cheeks, causing her to moan slightly in anticipation as he slowly started to kiss his way up her right leg, stopping every now and then to lavish her divine thighs with his tongue or suck hard enough to leave good hickey as a result. Dany was already breathing hard in anticipation and her eyes opened and closed unconsciously while her hands drifted up and down, caressing across her belly, kneading her full teats, slightly pinching her light pink nipples that looked hard enough to cut glass as well as running her hands across his scalp, raking her nails teasingly across the bare skin on the sides of his head.

Grinning victoriously as he moans turned into pleading once his lips and tongue skirted the edges of her out lips, he ruthlessly clamped down on his lust addled mind and shifted over to her left leg to repeat the process. He got perhaps four kisses in on her thigh before she snarled angrily and grabbed his hair and forced his mouth into her core.

The taste of her divine flesh was enough for him to accept defeat at the moment, as he was far more interested in running his tongue through her flower than he was to tease her anyway so he eagerly started lapping up her juices with his tongue, enjoying the way her entire body trembled frim lust and pleasure, the way she moaned and gasped in delight as he massaged her nub or applied suction to it while she pinched her nipples and kneaded her breasts.

Removing his right hand from the cheek of her behind he slowly inserted two fingers into her hot core, curling them slightly and drawing them back and forth to wet them properly while swirling his tongue through her lips and around her nub.

Looking up at her eyes that were glazed over in ecstasy he smirked slightly before he prodded her rear hole with one of his fingers that was covered in her juices. She widened her eyes in surprise and opened her mouth to comment, only to groan suddenly as he inserted the finger into the warm hole between her cheeks.

Slowly he pushed it in and out while lapping slowly at the juices that was pouring from her cunt, grinning in victory as she mewled and twisted in pleasure. "Don't- oh gods- don't you dare stop", she gasped as she threw her head back in pleasure and Daeron let satisfaction fill him, he had won.

Continuing his oral worship of her cunt he increased the pace of his tongue while adding first a second and then a third finger to her arse, slowly pumping the fingers in and out to stretch her, and just as she was reaching her peak, the signs well known to him by now he bit her nub ever so gently, and closed his eyes as she drenched his face with her juices while screaming loud enough to wake the gods in ecstasy. Instead of slowing down he increased the speed at which he thrust his fingers into her rear while lapping up as much of her juices as he could with his tongue, prolonging her orgasm until she collapsed onto him.

They stayed like that for a few moments, he kneeling on the floor and she trembling in his arms, before she grabbed him by his head and smashed her mouth onto his, hungrily devouring his mouth and tongue with her won, as he let his arms snake around her and with a small grunt of exertion he lifted her up and dropped her onto the bed while freeing his stiff cock from his smallclothes.

Taking hold of a pair of pillows Daeron placed them underneath Dany who still somewhat tired from her earlier orgasm laid down, almost pressing her chest into the mattress. Slowly he pressed tender kisses across her lower back and arse cheeks while pumping is fingers into her again, bringing forth renewed moans from her. Finally deeming her ready he grabbed his cock and ran it up and down between the petals of her flower a few times before placing the tip of his now glistening cock at the puckered hole of her rear and slowly pushed forward.

She tensed at the unfamiliar sensation so Daeron leant over her and lovingly nipped at the lobe of her ear while softly running his hand through her pale blond tresses. "Relax my love", he whispered softly to her.

She nodded slightly and Daeron could feel the tension leaving her body while he pushed forward slowly again. The head of his cock disappeared into her arse at an excruciatingly slow speed and both of them moaned at the new sensation. Steadily he watched his cock disappear between her pert behind, first one then two, until all seven inches were lodged in her arse, both of them panting heavily at the sensation.

That Dany was enjoying it was without question, panting heavily her mouth opened and closed of its own volition, and her right hand was frantically rubbing through her folds, while her left was massaging her breasts.

Daeron himself was having troubles to not release at once, her arse was like a furnace, warm and tight, gripping to him like a vice, and both of them moaned as he withdrew his cock until just the head was inside, and then he pushed in again. Slowly he built up a rhythm, his hands were gripping her cheeks in a hard grip as he grit his teeth in order to prolong the pleasure while Dany let her hands continue to play her own body like an instrument.

Sensing that he was close Dany slowed down her rubbing. "Stop Daeron, I want you-want you…in…my…cunt", she let out short gasps of pleasure between each word.

"Are you- are you sure?" Daeron gasped as he slowed down his strokes, "We…don't…have…moon…tea", he gasped out.

During the months after Dany had joined him and Rhaenys in their bed, Dany had taken moon tea every three weeks to avoid pregnancy, an unspoken agreement that Daeron saw no problems with, but he was not going to deny her if she wanted to stop using it.

"What will come will come, beloved", she said as she pressed a kiss to his mouth while he slowly inserted himself in between her legs.

With both of them worked up and having been close to release it didn't take long before Daeron grunted as he shot load after load of his seed into Dany's womb and both of them collapsed underneath the sheets in fitful sleep afterwards.

 ***L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R**

 **LEMON, OVER**

 ***L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R**

Daeron and Dany spent another two weeks on Tyrosh to set up some form of government. The Legate of the First Legion would be in charge of the city, which would be under martial law for a period of two years, during which time, he would organise the recruitment and training of a proper city watch, some of Daeron's men from the academy would arrive to start up a semblance of bureaucracy and start to implement the laws until a suitable governor could be found.

Once Stannis returned, the Third, Fifth and Sixth would be deployed on the Stepstones to continue their training, and also reinforce the isles properly, eventually they would have enough men that the Legions would be able to shift regularly where they pulled their duty, staying at either the mainland, or one of the isles for a set period of time before redeploying.

After two weeks Rhaelle's wound had healed enough that she could fly again, so Daeron and Dany returned back to Bloodstone, Sers Oswell, Jaremy and Richard receiving the honour of flying as they got to hitch a ride, while the Dragonguard returned via ship.

 ***L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R**

 **Dragon Keep, Bloodstone.**

 **Daeron:**

Daerons joy at not only reuniting with his wife, but also seeing his last two children by Tyene and Sarella had turned into vapour at learning how close he had come to losing them, in the case of his two bastards not even having met them, and at learning the traitors were still alive and in the dungeons he had snapped.

Storming through the fortress to the dungeons he had questioned the men themselves, the first man whom had been captured by Ser Barristan had cracked after three hours with the Smalljon and had named and/or described the other assassins on the island. Most of them were dead, but a further nine had been found and captured.

No matter how much they had been questioned and even tortured they had refused to give up more information, and Rhaenys, while great with more…offensive types of magic did not have Daeron's skill, or power with the mind arts.

So he had brutally smashed his mind into the mind of his prisoner, waging a mental war, wringing their feeble brains of any and all bits of information, leaving them as drooling husks once he was done.

"Slit their throats, burn their bodies", Daeron said coldly as he stared at the men whose minds had snapped under the assault.

"What did you learn brother?" Rhaenys asked him, her eyes just as hard and furious as his own.

"The men were sent at the behest of Cersei Lannister, with specific orders to kill you, me, Dany and our children".

Rhaneys almost hissed in fury. "This cannot go unanswered", she was trembling with rage and Daeron put a calming hand on her shoulder, already he was lost in the Flame and the Void.

"Oh but we will give her an answer, I will ensure it".

"What do you intend?" Rhaenys asked.

Slowly walking over to a pair of prisoners, two of the more vicious of the captured pirates who were forced to spend every night in the dungeons he laid his hands on the head of first the one and pushed his mind into the mind of the pirate, brutally beating down any selfish interest and will, and supplanting it with loyalty to himself and the Targaryens in general before repeating the process with his compatriot.

"You know the story of Blood and Cheese do you not sister"? Daeron asked Rhaenys, who blanched slightly at first, that story was one that told the tale of just how vicious an angry Targaryen could be. It would be brutal, and was a potent reminder of what had almost happened to bother herself and their brother Aegon, but her fury at the Lannister Queen who had ordered the deaths of their children, overruled her moral qualms, just like Daeron's rage did for himself.

"Do it!", she said.

Releasing the two pirates from their shackles Daeron gave them both a sword and a knife before leaning close to whisper instructions to them. "You know what you must do?" he asked them.

"Yes Your Grace", they spoke in unison.

Putting a hand on both their shoulders he tightened his grip. "Good", then he twisted sharply and disappeared along with the two men with aloud 'CRACK'. The trio reappeared in the dungeons of the Red Keep.

"It is the middle of the night, so the guards should be tired, be quick and silent and you will be able to accomplish your mission". Watching the two men disappear into the darkness Daeron felt a glimmer of doubt creep through him at what he had now set in motion, but the faces of his children swam before his eyes, more specifically a vision of his children, his wife and his aunt, all brutally murdered at the hands of the Lannisters crossed his vision, and stamped out any feeling of guilt he had. With another 'CRACK' he disappeared from the dungeons of the Red Keep and reappeared in his bedchambers where both Rhaenys and Dany were waiting for him. Walking into the nursery he placed a soft kiss on the heads of his son and daughters before returning to the bed where he cuddled up to his two lovers, the Lannister Queen had attempted to take his children, and soon enough she would herself feel the pain she had been so eager to inflict upon him…

 **AN:**

 **So that was that. Sorry about the time it took to get this out, but I hope you enjoyed it all the same. For those unfamiliar with the story of Blood and Cheese I suggest you head over to the a wiki of ice and fire and read up on it.**

 **As you can see the story is taking a darker turn, as Daeron losses himself in both his own power, and fear of loosing his family.**

 **As always read and review.**

 **Tellie571**


	15. And who are you the proud lord said

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

 **Warning: Brutality, non-con and child murder in this.**

**The Red Keep. Chambers of the Queen:**

Cersei woke suddenly with a gasping breath. She'd had such a wonderful dream about Jamie, but he was not here. He was away in the Reach with her fat whoring husband, leaving her alone in the Red Keep along with her children. Not that Robert leaving gave her any more power, that dusty old cunt Jon Arryn was still ruling the city as Hand of the King, much like he'd done just about every single day since Robert took the Crown.

It was strange, she thought, waking like she had done. As if she'd had a nightmare, and as her mind cleared away the haze of sleep her senses sharpened. Something was wrong, she was sure of it. An icy feeling of dread slowly but surely creeping up her spine, and as she turned her head towards the window she noted that it was still night. Quickly stepping out of her bed to throw on a night robe she shivered. It was quiet…too quiet, not like the silence of the night usually was.

The sudden yell from Ser Meryn who was standing outside her door, as well as the sound of muffled sobs made her heart race. More yells from Ser Meryn rang, accompanied with the sound of a sword being drawn. Three distinct clashes of steel sounded, followed by a strangled gurgle, before at last the sound of an armoured body collapsing to the floor. Feeling panic rise she drew a dagger and held it in front of her just as the door was kicked in.

A brute of a man stepped in, his right hand clutched a bloody short sword, and in his left hand was a sight that knocked the breath out of Cersei's chest. The brute held her darling 'Cella by her throat, hard enough to cause her lovely lioness to turn red in the face, and Cella's eyes. Cersei almost broke into sobs at the panicked pleading eyes of her daughter.

Another man followed, this man held both her little Tommen and her precious Joffrey, her golden lion, a dagger to each of their throats. Tommen was shaking and sobbing so bad that Cersei feared he would accidentally slice his own throat on the assassin's blade, while Joffrey was a bit calmer. He was still pale and shivering with fear, but he was also furious, his face twisted in fear and rage at the fact that someone dared threaten him. The man holding 'Cella closed the door behind them and jammed a chair underneath the handle.

"Looks like we found uselves a little lioness din't we?" the bigger of the two who was holding Joff and Tommen sneered while his mouth spread in a nasty grin.

"Aye…rare ter see such a lovleh sight," said the other one, with an equally sick grin on his face.

"I WILL KILL YOU IF YOU TOUCH THEM!" Cersei raged as she lost her temper, pointing the sharp dagger at them. "I'LL FLAY THE SKIN FROM YOUR BONES, AND BURN YOUR FAMILIES ALIVE, LET THEM GO", she raged as she collapsed to her knees at the hopelessness of her situation.

"Wh-why are you doing this?" Myrcella sobbed.

"Yer mum's been a bad girl," Cella's captor said with a falsely berating tone to his voice. "She sent bad man to murder babies in their beds, isn't that right yer lioness?" The man said as he looked at Cersei.

"LIES!" She yelled back as she desperately sought for a way to salvage the situation, though her heart sank at what the man had accused her of, perhaps the assassins she had sent had failed.

"Ah think no'," said the other man.

"We was there youse understand, we was there when the lil'finger paid us whi' gold. Whye don't ye tell yer little brats wha' you did? And I swear we'll only kill one of'em."

"NO! please, don't hurt my babies," Cersei wailed as she shuffled towards her children, only to stop as the man who held Joff and Tommen tightened his grip, causing both boys to cry out as a thin line of red appeared around the blades that were pressed against her little cub's throats.

"Tell yer fookin brats wha' yeh did." The man growled again.

Seeing no way out of the situation Cersei confessed. "I sent men to kill the dragon king and his children across the sea, only to keep you safe my loves," Cersei pleaded with her children, but she felt a stab of pain in her chest as both 'Cella and Tommen gasped with horror, and then something within their eyes, the something that had always lit up with love and adoration when they saw her died.

"Please I told them," she begged. "Let them go please."

They both laughed, a hard cruel laughter without any trace of humour. "We told you we wouldn't kill all of them…tell me yer Grace, do yeh know the story of blood an' cheese?"

Cersei frowned, there was something familiar with that story but for the life of her she just couldn't focus in the situation. I twasn't until the man holding Cella suddenly threw her over the desk and ripped her dress to shreds that the story became terrifyingly clear in her mind. Roughly one and a half centuries before, during the Dance, two men loyal to Rhaenyra had snuck into the chambers of Queen Haelena and forced her to choose which one of her sons died, lest she wanted to watch as they raped her daughter and killed both of her boys.

"Choose," one of them said.

Cersei wailed, pleaded and threatened but to no avail. They were adamant that she choose, and she was running out of time. The man holding 'Cella was already running his fingers between Cella's legs with a look of perverse glee on his face as her beautiful princes writhed, sobbed and pleaded, absolutely helpless and unable to escape the would be rapist's grip. Closing her eyes Cersei muttered a prayer, ' _forgive me Tommen'_ , "Tommen…I-I choose T-Tommen t-to die."

Tommen sobbed harder than ever, and Myrcella cursed her of all thing, Joffrey just seemed relieved. "As you wish," the man holding Joff and Tommen said as he pushed Tommen forth so that he landed in her arms.

Cersei's relief at having her son back in her arms lasted for the fraction of a second as she realized that the man still held her beloved Joff. "NO!" she screamed, just before the man rammed his knife into Joff's belly and sliced it open, causing her boy, her first born beloved boy scream in unimaginable agony. To make matters worse, the man slit Joff's throat next, showering himself, Cersei and Tommen in blood. Cersei closed her eyes as she screamed in denial, unable to look into the panicked and pleading eyes of her beloved lion cub, she could hear 'Cella and Tommen both sob, as well as a strange noise, a mix of a crunch and a splat, said noise causing Cella's screaming to fall into silence. A pair of footsteps disappeared into the night and Cersei opened her eyes, barely managing to avoid vomiting. 'Cella, naked, and from the blood and streaks of white dripping from between her legs had fainted after she was violated and her beloved Joff was no more. He laid in a pile of dead flesh, his innards and blood scattered around him, while his head had been smashed into an unrecognizable pulp by his killer's boot, and Cersei could do nothing but cry and that was how a pair of Lannister guardsmen found her shortly after the bells started to toll as the bodies of dead guards had been found. Rocking back and forth as she cried for her dead son, she barely even noticed as Grandmaester Pycelle offered a goblet with milk of the poppy to her lips, barely even noticed as she lay back on the bed, all she could think of was that her beloved Joff was gone…

 **Apologies for the lateness (and shortness of this update). I've been busy not only with work, but also holiday and lots of other activities during my free time. I've been struggling with this scene for a long time now, and to be honest I'm still not really satisfied with it, but I figured that since you guys have been so patient with me, I should give you a little morsel.**

 **Next chapter is in the process of being written (about 10% done). About 50% on Harry the Hammer, and 30% or so on ASCAL.**

 **Suggested reading: A Dragon in Wolf's Clothing by Manowarrior.**

 **Cheers**

 **Tellie571**


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